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THE 


CHILD  LIFE  FIFTH  EEADER 


]?crKaA(t 


BY 

ETTA   AUSTIN   BLAISDELL 

AND 

MARY   FRANCES   BLAISDELL 

AUTHORS  OF   "  CHILD  LIFE,"    "  CHILD   LIFE   IN   TALE  AND   FABLE,"    "  CHILD 

LIFE  IN   MANY   LANDS,"    "  CHILD  LIFE  IN   LITERATURE,"   AND 

THE   "BLAISDELL   SPELLERS" 


Neto  gork 
THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd. 
1902 

All  rights  reserved 


•    «■ 


Copyright,  1902, 
By  the  MACMILI.AN  COMPANY. 

Set  up  and  electrotyped  January,  1902. 


Nortooolr  i^reaa 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Mass  U.S.A. 


PREFACE 

This  book  forms  the  fifth  in  the  series  of  Child  Life  Readers. 
It  contains  selections  from  the  literature  that  children  ought 
to  know  and  enjoy. 

What  boy  or  girl  can  fail  to  read  with  delight  such  books 
as  "  Swiss  Family  Robinson,"  "  The  Wonder  Book,"  "  Alice 
through  the  Looking-Glass,"  "  Don  Quixote,"  "  Tom  Brown's 
School  Days,"  "The  Arabian  Nights,"  and  "Pickwick  Pa- 
pers "  ?  Selections  from  such  books  -as  these  are  given  with 
the  hope  of  so  interesting  the  pupils  in  the  part,  that  they  may 
wish  to  read  the  whole.  It  is  in  this  way  that  an  early  interest 
in  literature  may  be  inspired. 

Careful  attention  has  been  given  to  the  grading  in  this  series 
of  readers,  and  in  the  Fifth  Reader  the  material  is  selected  with 
the  special  aim  of  giving  to  the  pupil  what  he  can  read  and 
understand,  at  the  same  time  keeping  in  mind  the  necessity 
of  presenting  only  that  which  has  purity  and  excellence  of 
thought,  and  is  correct  in  diction. 

Attention  is  also  called  to  the  literary  value  of  the  poems, 
many  of  which  should  be  learned  by  heart. 


541475 


NOTE  TO  TEACHERS 

The  material  in  this  book  has  been  selected  with  three  defi- 
nite aims :  first,  to  stimulate  an  interest  in  good  literature ; 
second,  to  present  to  the  pupil  reading  matter  of  a  high  quality 
of  thought  and  expression ;  third,  to  afford  a  sufficient  and 
excellent  drill,  with  a  view  to  making  the  reading  of  the  pupils 
fluent  and  intelligent. 

In  order  to  awaken  an  interest  in  good  books,  the  pupil 
should  be  encouraged  to  take  books  from  the  public  library, 
and  to  read  books  at  home.  A  school  library  will  prove  to  be 
of  great  value  in  this  work. 

The  teacher  should  interest  herself  in  the  books  which  the 
pupils  are  reading,  suggest  books  for  them  to  read,  ask  them  to 
read  aloud  a  short  selection  from  a  book  they  have  read,  teach 
them  to  find  a  good  selection,  ask  them  to  learn  quotations  and 
short  poems  by  heart,  teach  them  to  select  quotations  worth 
knowing,  call  attention  to  a  fine  description,  to  a  thought  well 
expressed  ;  in  fact,  use  every  opportunity  for  leading  the  pupils 
to  love  the  true,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful  in  literature,  as 
well  as  in  nature  and  art. 

The  more  difficult  words  which  the  pupils  should  be  able  to 
pronounce  and  define  correctly  have  been  placed  at  the  head  of 
each  lesson.  The  work  of  searching  in  the  vocabulary  at  the 
end  of  the  book  for  the  pronunciation  and  definition  of  these 
words  will  afford  excellent  dictionary  practice. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS 


The  Sabot  of  Little  Wolff 
Perronet  .... 
Four-leaf  Clovers 
Spring : 

The  Gladness  of  Nature 

March 

Daffodils   . 

Home-thoughts  from 
The  River  of  Gold   . 
The  White  Knight  . 
Swiss  Family  Robinson 
Summer : 

A  Day  in  June 

The  Summer  Shower 

The  Cloud 
Black  Beauty   . 
Don  Quixote  and  the  Lion 
Don  Quixote,  Knight-Errant 
The  Owl  . 
Anselmo  . 

The  Building  of  the  Ship 
The  Miraculous  Pitcher 
Our  Country  Neighbors 
Autumn  : 

Robin  Redbreast 

The  Fringed  Gentian 


Abroad 


Francois  Coppee 
Juliana  Horatia  Ewing 
Ella  Higginson 

William  Cullen  Bryant 
William  Cullen  Bryant 
William  Wordsworth     . 
Robert  Browning  . 
John  Ruskin 
Lewis  Carroll 
Johann  David  Wyss 

James  Russell  Lowell    . 
Thomas  Buchanan  Read 
Percy  Bysshe  Shelley    . 
Anna  Sewell 
Miguel  de  Cervantes 
Miguel  de  Cervantes 
Barry  Cornwall    . 
Jean  Ingelow 
Henry  Wadsworth  Longfello 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne    . 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe . 

William  Allingham 
William  Cullen  Bryant 


^  6  8«- 


Tom  Brown  at  Rugby 

.     Thomas  Hughes    . 

Hare  and  Hounds    . 

.     Thomas  Hughes    . 

Sindbad,  the  Sailor  . 

. 

Siiidbad's  First  Voyage    . 



Sindbad's  Sixth  Voyage  . 

. 

Sindbad's  Seventh  Voyage 



Winter : 

The  Frost  Spirit 

.     John  Greenleaf  Whittier 

The  Snowstorm 

.     Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 

The  New  Year  . 

.     Alfred  Tennyson  . 

The  Noble  Nature    . 

.     Ben  Jonson  .... 

Mr.  Pickwick  Drives 

.     Charles  Dickens    . 

Mr.  Winkle  Skates  . 

.     Charles  Dickens   . 

Each  and  All    . 

.     Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 

Gulliver's  Voyage  to  Lilliput  . 

.     Jonathan  Sivift      . 

Two  Old  Soldiers     . 

Washington  Irving 

Notes      .        .        .        .        . 



Key  to  Pronunciation 



Vocabulary  .... 

• 

PAGE 

167 
173 
184 
186 

188 
192 

197 
198 
200 
201 
202 
214 
224 
226 
237 

259 
264 
265 


LIST   OF  AUTHORS 


Allingham,  William    . 

Browning,  Robert 

Bryant,  William  Cullen 

Carroll,  Lewis     . 

Cervantes,  Miguel  de 

Coppp:e,  Francois 

Cornwall,  Barry 

Dickens,  Charles 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo 

EwiNG,  Juliana  Hokatia 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel 

HiGGiNSON,  Ella    . 

Hughes,  Thomas   . 

Ingelow,  Jean 

Irving,  Washington 

JoNSON,  Ben   . 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth 

Lowell,  James  Russkll 

RusKiN,  John 

Read,  Thomas  Buchanan 

Sewell,  Anna 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe 

Stowe,  Harriet  Beecher 

Swift,  Jonathan  . 

Tennyson,  Alfred 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf 

Wordsworth,  AVilliam 

Wyss,  Johann  David  . 


PAGE 

165 
32 

29,  30,  166 
.   58 
96,  105 
9 
.  110 
202,  214 
198,  224 
16 
136 
28 
167,  173 
112 
237 
201 
120 
82 
33 
85 
88 
86 
159 
226 
200 
197 
31 
71 


THE  CHILD  LIFE  FIFTH  READER 


THE   SABOT   OF   LITTLE   WOLFF ' 


cure  ^ 

ecstasy 

compassion 

magnificent 

sabot 

vagabond 

reduction 

Strasbourg 

niche 

apprentice 

incrusted 

monsieur 

miracle 

porringer 

miserable 

battalions 

truffles 

avaricious 

menagerie 

burgomaster 

Once  upon  a  time,  —  it  was  so  long  ago  that  the 
whole  world  has  forgotten  the  date,  —  in  a  city  in  the 
north  of  Europe,  whose  name  is  so  difficult  to  pronounce 
that  nobody  remembers  it,  —  once  upon  a  time  there  was 
a  little  boy  of  seven,  named  Wolff.  He  was  an  orphan  in 
charge  of  an  old  aunt  who  was  hard  and  avaricious,  who 
only  kissed  him  on  New  Year's  Day,  and  who  breathed  a 
sigh  of  regret  every  time  that  she  gave  him  a  porringer 
of  soup. 

But  the  poor  little  lad  was  naturally  so  good  that  he 
loved  his  aunt  just  the  same,  although  she  frightened  him 
very  much ;  and  he  could  never  see  her  without  trembling, 
for  fear  she  would  whip  him. 

1  See  note  on  page  259. 

2  Find  the  pronunciation  and  definition  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 

9 


-»e  10  B«- 

As  the  aunt  of  Wolff  was  known  through  all  the 
village  to  have  a  house  and  an  old  stocking  full  of 
gold,  she  did  not  dare  send  her  nephew  to  the  school 
for  the  poor,  but  she  obtained  a  reduction  of  the  price 
with  the  schoolmaster  whose  school  little  Wolff  attended. 
The  teacher,  vexed  at  having  a  scholar  so  badly  dressed 
and  who  paid  so  poorly,  often  punished  him  unjustly,  and 
even  set  his  fellow-pupils  against  him. 

The  poor  little  fellow  was  therefore  as  miserable  as 
the  stones  in  the  street,  and  hid  himself  in  out-of-the-way 
corners  to  cry  when  Christmas  came. 

The  night  before  Christmas  the  schoolmaster  was  to 
take  all  of  his  pupils  to  church,  and  bring  them  back  to 
their  homes.  As  the  winter  was  very  severe  that  year, 
and  as  for  several  days  a  great  quantity  of  snow  had 
fallen,  the  children  came  to  the  master's  house  warmly 
wrapped  and  bundled  up,  with  fur  caps  pulled  down  over 
their  ears,  double  and  triple  jackets,  knitted  gloves  and 
mittens,  and  good,  thick-nailed  boots  with  strong  soles. 
Only  little  Wolff  came  shivering  in  the  clothes  that  he 
wore  week-days  and  Sundays,  and  with  nothing  on  his 
feet  but  coarse  Strasbourg  socks  and  heavy  sabots,  or 
wooden  shoes. 

His  thoughtless  comrades  made  a  thousand  jests  over 
his  forlorn  looks  and  his  peasant's  dress;  but  little  Wolff 
was  so  occupied  in  blowing  on  his  fingers  to  keep  them 
warm,  that  he  took  no  notice  of  the  boys  or  what  they  said. 


-«  11  8<- 

Tbe  troop  of  boys,  with  their  master  at  their  head, 
started  for  the  church.  As  they  went  they  talked  of  the 
fine  suppers  that  were  waiting  them  at  home.  The  son 
of  the  burgomaster  had  seen,  before  he  went  out,  a 
monstrous  goose  that  the  truffles  marked  with  black  spots 
like  a  leopard.  At  the  house  of  one  of  the  boys  there 
was  a  little  fir  tree  in  a  wooden  box,  from  whose  branches 
hung  oranges,  sweetmeats  and  toys. 

The  children  spoke,  too,  of  what  the  Christ-child 
would  bring  to  them,  and  what  he  would  put  in  their 
shoes,  which  they  would,  of  course,  be  very  careful  to 
leave  in  the  chimney  before  going  to  bed.  And  the  eyes 
of  those  little  boys,  lively  as  a  parcel  of  mice,  sparkled  in 
advance  with  the  joy  of  seeing  in  their  imagination  pink 
paper  bags  filled  with  cakes,  lead  soldiers  drawn  up  in 
battalions  in  their  boxes,  menageries  smelling  of  varnished 
wood,  and  magnificent  jumping-jacks  covered  with  purple 
and  bells. 

Little  Wolff  knew  very  well  by  experience  that  his  old 
aunt  would  send  him  supperless  to  bed;  but,  knowing 
that  all  the  year  he  had  been  as  good  and  industrious  as 
possible,  he  hoped  that  the  Christ-child  would  not  forget 
him,  and  he,  too,  looked  eagerly  forward  to  putting  his 
wooden  shoes  in  the  ashes  of  the  fireplace. 

When  the  service  was  ended,  every  one  went  away, 
anxious  for  his  supper,  and  the  band  of  children,  walk- 
ing two  by  two  after  their  teacher,  left  the  church. 


^  12  8«- 

In  the  porch,  sitting  on  a  stone  seat  under  a  Gothic 
niche,  a  child  was  sleeping  —  a  child  who  was  clad  in  a 
robe  of  white  linen,  and  whose  feet  were  bare,  notwith- 
standing the  cold.  He  was  not  a  beggar,  for  his  robe  was 
new  and  fresh,  and  near  him  on  the  ground  was  seen 
a  square,  a  hatchet,  a  pair  of  compasses,  and  the  other 
tools  of  a  carpenter's  apprentice.  Under  the  light  of  the 
stars,  his  face  bore  an  expression  of  divine  sweetness,  and 
his  long  locks  of  golden  hair  seemed  like  an  aureole  about 
his  head.  But  the  child's  feet,  blue  in  the  cold  of  that 
December  night,  were  sad  to  see. 

The  children,  so  well  clothed  and  shod  for  the  winter, 
passed  heedlessly  before  the  unknown  child.  One  of 
them,  the  son  of  one  of  the  principal  men  in  the  village, 
looked  at  the  waif  with  an  expression  in  which  no  pity 
could  be  seen. 

But  little  Wolff,  coming  the  last  out  of  the  church, 
stopped,  full  of  compassion,  before  the  beautiful  sleeping 
child.  "  Alas !  "  said  the  orphan  to  himself,  "  it  is  too 
bad  that  this  poor  little  one  has  to  go  barefoot  in  such 
bad  weather.  But  what  is  worse  than  all,  he  has  not 
even  a  boot  or  a  wooden  shoe  to  leave  before  him  while 
he  sleeps  to-night,  so  that  the  Christ-child  could  put 
something  there  to  comfort  him  in  his  misery." 

And,  carried  away  by  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  little 
Wolff  took  off  the  wooden  shoe  from  his  right  foot,  and 
laid  it  in  front  of  the  sleeping  child.     Then,  limping  along 


-«  13  B^ 


LITTLE  WOLFF 


^  14  S«- 

OH  his  poor  blistered  foot  and  dragging  his  sock  through 
the  snow,  he  went  back  to  his  aunt's  house. 

"  Look  at  that  worthless  fellow !  "  cried  his  aunt,  full 
of  anger  at  his  return  without  one  of  his  shoes.  "  What 
have  you  done  with  your  wooden  shoe,  little  wretch?" 

Little  Wolff  did  not  know  how  to  deceive,  and 
although  he  was  shaking  with  terror,  he  tried  to  stam- 
mer out  some  account  of  his  adventure. 

The  old  woman  burst  into  a  frightful  peal  of  laughter. 
"  Ah,  monsieur  takes  off  his  shoes  for  beggars !  Ah,  mon- 
sieur gives  away  his  wooden  shoes  to  a  barefoot !  This 
is  something  new !  Ah,  well,  since  that  is  so,  I  am 
going  to  put  the  wooden  shoe  which  you  have  left  in  the 
chimney,  and  I  promise  you  the  Christ-child  will  leave 
there  to-night  something  to  whip  you  with  in  the  morn- 
ing. And  you  shall  pass  the  day  to-morrow  on  dry  bread 
and  water.  We  will  see  if  next  time  you  give  away  your 
shoe  to  the  first  vagabond  that  comes." 

Then  the  aunt,  after  having  given  the  poor  boy  a 
couple  of  slaps,  made  him  climb  up  to  his  bed  in  the  attic. 
Grieved  to  the  heart,  the  child  went  to  bed  in  the  dark, 
and  soon  went  to  sleep,  his  pillow  wet  with  tears. 

On  the  morrow  morning,  when  the  old  woman  went 
downstairs  —  oh,  wonderful  sight !  —  she  saw  the  great 
chimney  full  of  beautiful  playthings,  and  sacks  of  mag- 
nificent candies,  and  all  sorts  of  good  things ;  and  before 
all  these  splendid  things  the  right  shoe,  that  her  nephew 


-«  15  8«- 

had  given  to  the  little  waif,  stood  by  the  side  of  the  left 
shoe,  that  she  herself  had  put  there  that  very  night,  and 
where  she  meant  to  put  a  birch  rod. 

As  little  Wolff,  running  down  to  learn  the  meaning  of 
his  aunt's  exclamation,  stood  in  artless  ecstasy  before  all 
these  splendid  gifts,  suddenly  there  were  loud  cries  and 
laughter  out  of  doors.  The  old  woman  and  the  little  boy 
went  out  to  know  what  it  all  meant,  and  saw  the  neigh- 
bors gathered  around  the  public  fountain.  What  had 
happened?  Oh,,  something  very  amusing  and  extraordi- 
nary !  The  children  of  all  the  rich  people  of  the  village, 
those  whose  parents  had  wished  to  surprise  them  with  the 
most  beautiful  gifts,  had  found  only  rods  in  their  shoes. 

Then  the  orphan  and  the  old  woman,  thinking  of  all 
the  beautiful  things  that  were  in  their  chimney,  were  full 
of  amazement.  But  presently  they  saw  the  cure  coming 
toward  them,  with  wonder  in  his  face.  In  the  church 
porch,  where  in  the  evening  a  child,  clad  in  a  white  robe, 
and  with  bare  feet,  had  rested  his  sleeping  head,  the  cure 
had  just  seen  a  circle  of  gold  incrusted  with  precious  stones. 

Then  the  people  understood  that  the  beautiful  sleep- 
ing child,  near  whom  were  the  carpenter's  tools,  was  the 
Christ-child  in  person,  become  for  an  hour  such  as  he  was 
when  he  worked  in  his  parents'  house,  and  they  bowed 
themselves  before  that  miracle  that  the  good  God  had  seen 
fit  to  work,  to  reward  the  faith  and  charity  of  a  child. 

—  Translated  from  the  French  of  FRANgois  Copp^k. 


-96  16  8«- 


PERRONET 1 


shilling  ^  determined  distraction 

hyacinth  interrupted  satisfaction 

telescope  ridiculous  particularly 

polypody  competitors  agricultural 

There  were  four  of  us,  and  three  of  us  had  godfathers 
and  godmothers,  —  three  each,  —  three  times  three  make 
nine,  and  not  a  fairy  godmother  among  them  !  That,  was 
what  vexed  us. 

It  was  very  provoking,  because  we  knew  so  well  what 
we  wanted  if  we  had  one,  and  she  had  given  us  three 
wishes  each,  —  three  times  three  make  nine.  We  could 
have  had  all  we  wanted  with  nine  wishes,  and  have  pro- 
vided for  Perronet,  too.  It  would  not  have  done  any  good 
for  Perronet  to  have  wishes  for  himself,  because  he  was 
only  a  dog. 

We  never  knew  who  it  was  that  drowned  Perronet,  but 
it  was  Sandy  who  saved  his  life  and  brought  him  home. 
It  was  when  he  was  coming  from  school,  and  he  brought 
Perronet  with  him. 

Perronet  was  not  at  all  nice  to  look  at  when  w^e  first 
saw  him,  though  we  were  very  sorry  for  him.  He  was  wet 
all  over,  and  his  eyes  were  shut,  and  you  could  see  his 

1  See  note  on  page  259. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


^  17  8€- 

ribs,  and  he  looked  quite  dark  and  sticky.  But  when  he 
dried,  he  dried  a  lovely  yellow,  with  two  black  ears  like 
velvet.  People  sometimes  asked  us  what  kind  of  a  dog 
he  was,  but  we  never  knew,  except  that  he  was  the  nicest 
possible  kind. 

We  were  afraid  we  could  not  keep  him,  because  mother 
said  we  could  not  afford  to  pay  for  his  tax  and  food.  The 
tax  was  five  shillings,  but  it  was  nearly  a  year  before  the 
time  for  paying  it.  We  were  all  very  unhappy  because  we 
were  so  fond  of  Perronet,  and  at  last  it  was  decided  that 
all  three  of  us  would  give,  up  sugar,  toward  saving  the 
expense  of  what  he  ate,  if  he  might  stay.  It  was  hardest 
for  Sandy,  because  he  was  particularly  fond  of  sweet 
things;  but  then  he  was  particularly  fond  of  Perronet. 
So  w^e  all  gave  up  sugar,  and  Perronet  was  allowed  to 
remain. 

About  the  tax,  we  thought  we  could  save  any  pennies 
or  halfpennies  we  got  during  the  year,  and  it  was  such  a 
long  time  before  the  tax  must  be  paid  that  we  should  be 
almost  sure  to  have  enough  by  then. 

What  we  wanted  a  fairy  godmother  for  most  of  all 
was  about  our  ''  homes."  There  was  no  kind  of  play  we 
liked  better  than  playing  at  houses  and  new  homes.  But 
no  matter  where  we  made  our  "  home,"  it  was  sure  to  be 
disturbed.  If  it  was  indoors,  and  we  made  a  palace  under 
the  big  table,  as  soon  as  we  had  it  nicely  divided  into 
rooms,  it  was  certain  to  be  dinner  time.     The  nicest  house 


->6  18  8«- 

we  ever  had  was  in  the  woodshed ;  we  had  it,  and  kept 
it  quite  a  secret,  for  weeks.  And  then  the  new  load  of 
wood  came  and  covered  up  everything,  our  best  oyster- 
shell  dinner  service  and  all. 

Any  one  can  see  that  it  is  impossible  really  to  imagine 
anything  when  you  are  constantly  interrupted.  We  could 
have  no  fun  playing  railway  train  when  they  took  all  our 
carriages  to  pieces  because  the  chairs  were  wanted  for  tea. 
If  we  wished  to  play  at  Thames  Tunnel  under  the  beds, 
we  were  not  allowed ;  and  the  day  we  did  Aladdin  in  the 
store  closet,  Jane  came  to  put  away  the  soap  just  when 
Aladdin  could  not  possibly  have  opened  the  door  of  the 
cave. 

One  day  early  in  May,  Sandy  came  in,  smiling  more 
broadly  than  usual,  and  said  to  Richard  and  me:  "I've 
found  a  fairy  godmother,  and  she  has  given  me  a  field. 
It's  quite  a  new  place,"  he  continued.  "You've  never 
been  there." 

"  How  did  you  get  there  ?  "-asked  Richard. 

"  The  fairy  godmother  showed  me,"  was  Sandy's  reply. 
"  Come  along.  It's  much  cooler  out  now.  The  sun's 
going  down." 

He  took  us  along  Gypsy  Lane.  We  had  been  there 
once  or  twice,  and  I  knew  it  quite  well.  At  the  end  of 
the  lane  there  is  a  stile,  by  which  you  go  into  a  field, 
and  at  the  other  end  you  get  over  another  stile,  and  find 
yourself  in  the  highroad. 


^  19  e<- 

"  If  this  is  your  field,  Sandy,"  said  I,  when  we  reached 
the  first  stile,  "  I'm  very  sorry,  but  it  really  won't  do.  I 
know  that  ever  so  many  people  come  through  it.  We 
should  never  be  quiet  here." 

Sandy  laughed.  He  didn't  speak,  and  he  didn't  get 
over  the  stile ;  he  went  through  a  gate  close  by  it  lead- 
ino;  into  a  little  lane.  We  followed  him  throut^h  a  field 
where  there  was  no  path.  Then  there  was  another 
hedge  and  another  stile  with  very  rough  posts,  and  two 
rails,  which  we  all  climbed  over.  When  we  reached  the 
other  side,  Sandy  leaned  against  the  big  post  and  waved 
his  right  hand,  and  said,  "  This  is  our  field." 

It  sloped  down  hill,  and  the  hedges  round  it  were 
rather  high,  with  awkward  branches  of  blackthorn  stick- 
ing out  here  and  there  without  any  leaves,  and  with  the 
blossoms  lying  white  on  the  black  twigs  like  snow.  There 
were  cowslips  all  over  the  field,  but  they  were  thicker  at 
the  lower  end,  which  was  damp. 

The  sun  shone  still,  but  it  shone  low  down,  and  made 
such  splendid  shadows  that  we  all  walked  about  with  gray 
giants  at  our  feet.  It  made  the  bright  green  grass,  and 
the  cowslips  down  below,  and  the  top  of  the  hedge,  and 
the  elder  bush,  and  Sandy's  hair,  so  yellow  —  so  very 
yellow  —  that  just  for  a  minute  I  believed  about  Sandy's 
godmother,  and  tliought  it  was  a  story  come  true,  and 
that  everything  was  turning  into  gold. 

It  was  only  for  a  minute ;  of  course  I  know  that  fairy 


-»8  20  8«- 

tales  are  not  true.  But  it  was  a  lovely  field,  and  when 
we  had  shaded  our  eyes  with  our  hands,  and  taken  a  good 
look  at  it,  I  said  to  Sandy,  "  It  is  the  best  field  I  ever  saw." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Sandy,  doing  the  honors ;  and  we  all 
sat  down  under  the  hedge,  where  we  could  see  the  whole 
field  stretched  out  before  us. 

"There  are  violets  just  behind  us,"  he  continued. 
"Can't  you  smell  them?  But  whatever  you  do,  don't  tell 
anybody  about  them  or  we  shall  not  keep  our  field  to  our- 
selves for  a  day.     And  look  here." 

He  had  turned  over  on  to  his  face,  and  Richard  and  I 
did  the  same,  while  Sandy  fumbled  among  the  bleached 
grass  and  leaves. 

"'  Hyacinths,"  said  Richard,  as  Sandy  displayed  their 
green  tops. 

"  As  thick  as  peas,"  said  Sandy.  "  This  bank  will  be 
blue  in  a  few  weeks,  and  there  will  be  ferns  everywhere. 
There's  a  wren's  nest  in  there  —  " 

At  this  point  he  rolled  suddenly  over  on  to  his  back 
and  looked  up. 

"  A  lark,"  he  explained  ;  "  there  was  one  singing  glo- 
riously this  morning.  This  will  be  a  good  field  for  a  kite, 
won't  it,  Richard?     But  wait  a  bit." 

After  every  new  thing  that  Sandy  showed  us  in  our 
field  he  always  finished  by  saying,  "  But  wait  a  bit,"  and 
that  was  because  there  was  always  something  else  better 
still. 


-«  21  S«- 

"There's  a  brook  at  that  end  of  the  field,"  he  said, 
"  with  lots  of  fresh-water  shrimps.  I  wonder  whether 
they  would  boil  red.  But  wait  a  bit.  This  hedge,  you 
see,  has  a  very  high  bank,  and  it  is  worn  into  ledges.  I 
think  we  could  play  at  '  shops '  there  —  but  wait  a  bit." 

"•  It  is  almost  too  good,  Sandy  dear,"  said  I,  as  w^e 
crossed  the  field  to  the  opposite  hedge. 

"  The  best  is  to  come,"  said  Sandy ;  "  but  I  don't  think 
I  will  tell  you  until  to-morrow." 

And  to  our  distraction  he  sat  down  in  the  middle  of 
the  field,  put  his  arms  around  his  knees,  and  rocked 
himself  backward  and  forward,  his  face  brimming  with 
satisfaction. 

Neither  Richard  nor  I  would  have  been  so  mean  as  to 
explore  on  our  own  account  when  the  field  was  Sandy's 
discovery,  but  we  tried  hard  to  persuade  him  to  show  us 
everything. 

He  had  the  most  provoking  way  of  laughing  and  not 
saying  a  word,  and  he  did  that  now,  besides  slowly  turn- 
ing all  his  pockets  inside  out  into  his  hands,  and  eating 
the  crumbs  and  currants,  saying,  "  Guess ! "  after  every 
mouthful. 

But  when  there  was  not  a  crumb  left  in  his  pockets, 
Sandy  turned  them  back,  and  jumping  up  said :  "  One 
can  tell  a  secret  only  once.  It's  a  hollow  oak.  Come 
along ! " 

He  ran  and  we  ran  to  the  other  side  of  our  field.     I 


-«  22  S«- 

had  read  of  hollow  oaks,  and  seen  pictures  of  them,  and 
once  I  dreamed  of  one  with  a  witch  inside,  but  we  had 
never  had  one  to  play  in.  We  were  nearly  wild  with 
delight.  It  looked  solid  from  the  field,  but  when  we 
pushed  behind  on  the  hedge  side,  there  was  the  door,  and 
I  crept  in.  There  could  not  be  a  more  perfect  castle,  and 
although  there  were  no  windows  in  the  sides,  the  light 
came  in  from  the  top,  where  the  hoary  polypody  hung 
over  like  a  fringe.  Sandy  was  quite  right.  It  was  the 
very  best  thing  in  our  field. 

Perronet  was  as  fond  of  the  field  as  we  were.  What 
he  liked  was  the  little  birds.  At  least,  I  don't  know  that 
he  liked  them,  but  they  were  what  he  chiefly  attended  to. 
I  think  he  knew  that  it  was  our  field,  and  thought  he  was 
our  watch-dog.  Whenever  a  bird  lighted  on  one  of  the 
trees,  he  barked  at  it,  then  it  flew  away,  and  he  ran,  bark- 
ing after  it,  until  he  lost  sight  of  it.  By  that  time 
another  had  lighted  somewhere,  and  Perronet  flew  at 
him,  and  so  on,  all  up  and  down  the  field.  He  never 
caught  a  bird,  and  never  would  let  one  alight  if  he 
saw  it. 

We  had  all  kinds  of  games  in  our  field.  Shops  —  for 
there  were  quantities  of  things  to  sell  —  and  sometimes  I 
was  a  moss  merchant,  for  there  were  ten  different  kinds 
of  moss  by  the  brook;  sometimes  I  was  a  jeweller,  and 
sold  daisy  chains,  pebbles,  coral  sets  made  of  holly  berries, 
and  oak-apple  necklaces;   sometimes   I  kept  provisions, 


-«  23  Be- 
like earth-nuts,  mallow-cheeses,  and  mushrooms ;  some- 
times I  kept  a  flower  shop,  and  sold  nosegays,  wreaths, 
and  umbrellas  made  of  rushes.  I  liked  the  flower  shop 
best,  because  I  am  fond  of  arranging  flowers,  and  I 
always  make  our  birthday  wreaths  and  bouquets.  Some- 
times I  kept  ever  so  many  shops,  and  Richard  and  Sandy 
bought  my  wares,  and  paid  for  them  with  money  made  of 
elder  pith,  sliced  into  circles.  The  first  shop  I  kept  was 
to  sell  cowslips,  and  Richard  and  Sandy  lived  beside  the 
brook,  and  were  wine  merchants,  and  made  cowslip  wine 
in  a  tin  mug. 

The  elder  tree  was  beautiful.  In  July  the  cream- 
colored  flowers  were  so  fragrant  that  we  could  hardly  sit 
under  it,  and  in  the  autumn  it  was  covered  with  berries ; 
but  we  were  always  a  little  disappointed  that  they  never 
tasted  in  the  least  like  elderberry  syrup.  Richard  used  to 
make  flutes  out  of  the  stalks,  and  we  could  really  play 
tunes  on  one  of  them,  only  it  always  made  Perronet  bark. 

Richard's  cap  had  a  large  hole  in  the  top,  and  when 
we  were  in  our  field  we  always  hung  the  cap  on  the 
taller  of  the  two  stileposts  to  show  that  we  were  there, 
just  as  the  Queen  has  a  flag  hung  on  Windsor  Castlfe 
when  she  is  at  home. 

We  played  a£  castles  and  houses,  and  when  we  were 
tired  of  the  houses  we  went  to  play  by  the  brook  and  pre- 
tended we  had  gone  to  the  seaside  for  a  change  of  air. 
Sandy  and  I  took  off  our  shoes  and  stockings  and  washed 


-»8  24  8«- 

Perronet  in  the  brook,  and  Richard  sat  on  the  bank  and 
looked  at  us  through  a  telescope  ;  for  when  the  elder  stems 
cracked,  and  could  not  be  made  into  flutes,  he  made  them 
into  telescopes. 

Whatever  we  played  at  we  were  never  disturbed. 
Birds,  and  cows,  and  men  and  horses  ploughing  in  the 
distance,  do  not  disturb  one  at  all.  We  were  very  happy 
that  summer ;  the  boys  were  quite  happy,  and  the  only 
thing  that  troubled  me  was  Perronet's  tax  money,  for 
weeks  went  by  and  still  we  did  not  save  it.  Once  we  got 
as  far  as  twopence  halfpenny,  and  then  one  day  Richard 
came  to  me  and  said,  "  I  must  have  some  more  string 
for  my  kite.  You  might  lend  me  a  penny  out  of  Perronet's 
tax  money  till  I  can  get  some  money  of  my  own." 

So  I  gave  Richard  a  penny ;  and  the  next  day  Sandy 
said,  "You  lent  Dick  one  of  Perronet's  coppers;  I'm  sure 
Perronet  would  lend  me  one; "  and  then  they  said  it  was 
ridiculous  to  leave  a  halfpenny  there  by  itself,  so  we  spent 
it  for  cakes. 

It  worried  me  so  much  at  last,  that  I  began  to  dream 
horrible  dreams  about  Perronet  having  to  go  away  because 
\^e  hadn't  saved  his  tax  money,  and  then  I  used  to  wake 
up  and  cry  until  my  pillow  was  quite  wet.  The  boys 
never  seemed  to  care,  so  that  I  was  quite  surprised  one 
day  when  I  found  Sandy  alone  in  our  field  with  Perronet 
in  his  arms,  crying,  and  feeding  him  with  cake ;  and  I 
found  he  was  crying  about  the  taxes. 


^  25e«- 

I  cannot  bear  to  see  boys  cry.  I  would  much  rather 
cry  myself,  and  1  begged  Sandy  to  leave  off,  for  I  said  I 
was  determmed  to  try  to  think  of  some  way  of  earning 
the  money. 

It  certainly  was  remarkable  that  the  very  next  day 
should  be  the  day  when  we  first  heard  about  the  flower 
show  and  the  prizes. 

It  was  in  school,  and  the  schoolmaster  rapped  on  his 
desk  and  said, '-  Silence,  children  !  "  Then  he  told  us  that 
at  the  agricultural  fair,  which  was  to  be  held  in  July, 
there  was  to  be  a  flower  show,  and  that  an  old  gentleman 
was  going  to  give  prizes  to  the  school  children  for  the 
best  arrangement  of  wild  flowers.  There  were  to  be  nose- 
gays and  wreaths,  and  there  was  to  be  a  first  prize  of  five 
shillings,  and  a  second  prize  of  half  a  crown,  for  the  best 
collection  of  wild  flowers  with  the  names  attached  to  them. 

"  The  English  names,"  said  the  schoolmaster ;  "  and 
there  may  be  —  silence,  children  !  —  there  may  be  collec- 
tions of  ferns,  or  grasses,  or  mosses  to  compete,  too,  for 
the  gentleman  wishes  to  encourage  a  taste  for  natural 
history." 

Sandy  was  sitting  next  to  me,  and  I  squeezed  his  arm 
and  whispered,  "  Five  shillings !  "  and  the  schoolmaster 
said,  "  Silence,  children !  "  and  I  thought  I  never  should 
finish  my  lessons  for  that  day  because  I  could  think  of 
nothing  but  Perronet's  tax  money. 

July  is  not  at  all  a  good  month  for  wild  flowers ;  May 


^  26  St- 
and June  are  far  better.     However,  the  show  was  to  be 
the  first  week  in  July. 

I  said  to  the  boys :  "  I'll  make  a  collection  of  wild 
flowers.  I  know  the  names,  and  I  can  print.  It  will  do 
no  good  for  two  or  three  of  us  to  try  to  arrange  flowers, 
but  if  you  will  get  me  what  I  need,  I  shall  be  very  much 
obliged.  If  either  of  you  wish  to  make  another  collection, 
there  are  ten  kinds  of  mosses  by  the  brook,  and  ever  so 
many  kinds  of  ferns  among  the  rocks.  We  have  names 
for  them  of  our  own,  and  they  are  English  names.  Per- 
haps they  will  do.  But  everything  must  come  from  our 
field." 

The  boys  agreed,  and  they  vrere  very  good.  Richard 
made  a  box,  rather  high  at  the  back.  We  put  sand  at 
the  bottom  and  wet  it,  and  then  on  top  of  that  we  heaped 
lovely  masses  of  feather  moss.  I  like  to  see  grass  with 
flowers,  and  we  had  very  pretty  grasses,  so  between  every 
bunch  of  flowers  I  put  a  bunch  of  grass  of  different  kinds. 
I  got  all  the  flowers  and  all  the  grasses  ready  first,  and 
printed  the  names  on  pieces  of  cardboard  to  stick  in  with 
them,  and  then  I  arranged  them  by  my  eye,  and  Sandy 
handed  me  what  I  called  for ;  while  Richard  was  busy  at 
the  brook  filling  a  large  tray  with  damp  sand  and  lovely 
mosses. 

Sandy  knew  the  flowers  and  their  names  as  well  as 
I  did.  Of  course  we  knew  everything  that  lived  in  our 
field ;    so   when   I   called,  "  Ox-eyed   daisies,  cock's-foot 


^  27e«- 

grass,  meadow-sweet,  foxtail  grass,  dog-roses,  shivering 
grass,"  and  so  on,  he  gave  me  the  right  things,  and  I 
had  nothing  to  do  but  to  put  the  colors  that  looked  best 
together  next  to  each  other,  and  to  make  the  grass  look 
light,  and  pull  up  bits  of  the  moss  to  show  well.  At  the 
end  of  every  label  I  added,  "  Out  of  Our  Field." 

I  did  not  like  it  very  well  when  it  was  done ;  but 
Richard  praised  it  so  much,  it  cheered  me  up,  and  I 
thought  his  mosses  looked  lovely. 

The  flower-show  day  was  very  hot.  I  did  not  think 
it  could  be  hotter  anywhere  in  the  world  than  it  was  in 
the  field  where  the  fair  was ;  but  it  was  hotter  in  the  tent. 

We  could  not  have  gone  in  at  all,  —  for  a  man  was  sell- 
ing tickets  at  the  entrance,  —  but  they  allowed  the  com- 
petitors to  go  in  free.  When  we  got  in  there  were  a  great 
many  grown  people,  and  it  was  hard  work  to  get  about 
among  them  and  to  see  the  stands  where  the  flowers  and 
fruit  were  arranged.  Every  few  minutes  we  saw  a  ticket 
saying  "  First  Prize,"  or  "  Second  Prize,"  but  it  was  sure 
to  be  placed  on* a  tray  of  dahlias,  or  on  fruit  that  we 
were  not  allowed  to  eat,  or  vegetables.  The  vegetables 
disappointed  us  so  often  that  I  began  almost  to  hate  them. 
I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  like  very  big  potatoes  (before 
they  are  boiled)  again,  particularly  the  red  ones.  It  makes 
me  feel  sick  with  heat  and  anxiety  to  think  of  them. 

We  had  struggled  slowly  all  around  the  tent,  and  seen 
all  the  cucumbers,  onions,  lettuce,  long   potatoes,  round 


-«  28  8«- 

potatoes,  and  everything  else,  when  we  saw  an  old  gentle- 
man, with  spectacles  and  white  hair,  standing  before  a 
table.  And  then  w^e  saw  three  nosegays  in  jugs,  with  all 
the  green  picked  off,  and  then  we  saw  some  prettier  ones, 
and  then  we  saw  my  collection,  and  it  had  a  big  label  in 
it  marked  "  First  Prize,"  and  next  to  it  was  Richard's 
moss  tray,  with  the  hair-moss,  and  the  pincushion-moss, 
and  the  others  with  names  of  our  own  invention,  and  it 
was  marked  ''  Second  Prize."  I  gripped  one  of  Sandy's 
arms  just  as  Richard  seized  the  other,  and  we  both  cried, 
"  Perronet  is  paid  for  !  " 

—  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing. 

FOUR-LEAF   CLOVERS 

T  know  a  place  where  the  sun  is  like  gold. 
And  the  cherry-blooms  burst  with  snow ; 

And  down  underneath  is  the  loveliest  nook. 
Where  the  four-leaf  clovers  grow. 

One  leaf  is  for  hope,  and  one  is  for  faith, 

And  one  is  for  love,  you  know, 
But  God  put  another  in  for  luck  — 

If  you  search,  you  will  find  where  they  grow. 

But  you  must  have  hope,  and  you  must  have  faith. 
You  must  love  and  be  strong,  and  so. 

If  you  work,  if  you  wait,  you  will  find  the  place 
Where  the  four-leaf  clovers  grow.  — ella  higginson. 


-96  29  8*- 


THE   GLADNESS   OF   NATURE  i 

Is  this  a  time  to  be  cloudy  and  sad, 

When  our  mother  Nature  laughs  around. 

When  even  the  deep  blue  heavens  look  glad, 
And  gladness  breathes  from  the  blossoming  ground  ? 

There  are  notes  of  joy  from  the  hang-bird  and  wren. 
And  the  gossip  of  swallows  through  all  the  sky ; 

The  ground-squirrel  gayly  chirps  by  his  den. 
And  the  wilding  bee  hums  merrily  by. 

The  clouds  are  at  play  in  the  azure  space. 

And  their  shadows  at  play  on  the  bright  green  vale, 
And  here  they  stretch  to  the  frolic  chase. 

And  there  they  roll  on  the  easy  gale. 

There's  a  dance  of  leaves  in  that  aspen  bower. 
There "^s  a  titter  of  winds  in  that  beechen  tree, 

There's  a  smile  on  the  fruit  and  a  smile  on  the  flower. 
And  a  laugh  from  the  brook  that  runs  to  the  sea. 

And  look  at  the  broad-faced  sun,  how  he  smiles 
On  the  dewy  earth  that  smiles  in  his  ray, 

On  the  leaping  waters  and  gay  young  isles,  — 
Ay,  look,  and  he'll  smile  thy  gloom  away. 

—  William  Cullen  Bryant. 
1  See  note  on  page  259. 


-«  30  B«- 


MARCH  1 


The  stormy  March  has  come  at  last, 

With  wmd,  and  cloud,  and  changing  skies ; 

I  hear  the  rushing  of  the  blast 

That  through  the  snowy  valley  flies. 

Ah,  passing  few  are  they  who  speak. 
Wild,  stormy  month,  in  praise  of  thee ! 

Yet,  though  thy  winds  are  loud  and  bleak, 
Thou  art  a  welcome  month  to  me. 

For  thou,  to  northern  lands,  again 

The  glad  and  glorious  sun  dost  bring ; 

And  thou  hast  joined  the  gentle  train. 
And  wear'st  the  gentle  name  of  Spring. 

Then  sing  aloud  the  gushing  rills. 

And  the  full  springs,  from  frost  set  free, 

That,  brightly  leaping  down  the  hills. 
Renew  their  journey  to  the  sea. 

Thou  bring'st  the  hope  of  those  calm  skies, 
And  that  soft  time  of  sunny  showers. 

When  the  wide  bloom,  on  earth  that  lies, 
Seems  of  a  brighter  world  than  ours. 

—  William  Cullbn  Bryant. 
1  See  note  ou  page  269. 


-98  31  8«- 
DAFFODILS  1 

I  wandered  lonely  as  a  cloud 

That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills, 
When  all  at  once  I  saw  a  crowd, 

A  host  of  golden  daffodils,  — 
Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees. 
Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 

Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 

And  twinkle  on  the  milky  way. 
They  stretched  in  never-ending  line 

Along  the  margin  of  the  bay. 
Ten  thousand  saw  I  at  a  glance, 
Tossing  their  heads  in  sprightly  dance. 

The  waves  beside  them  danced,  but  they 

Outdid  the  sparkling  waves  in  glee,  — 
A  poet  could  not  but  be  gay 

In  such  a  jocund  company. 
I  gazed,  and  gazed,  but  little  thought 
What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought. 
For  oft,  when  on  my  couch  I  lie, 

In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood. 
They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 

Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude ; 
And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills. 

And  dances  with  the  daffodils.— William  Wordsworth. 
1  See  note  on  page  259. 


-»8  32  8«- 


HOME-THOUGHTS   FROM   ABROAD 

Oh,  to  be  in  England, 

Now  that  April's  there  ! 

And  whoever  wakes  in  England 

Sees,  some  morning,  unaware. 

That  the  lowest  boughs  and  the  brushwood  sheaf 

Round  the  elm-tree  bole  are  in  tiny  leaf, 

While  the  chaffinch  sings  on  the  orchard  bough, 

In  England  —  now ! 

And  after  April,  when  May  follows, 

And  the  white-throat  builds,  and  all  the  swallows  — 

Hark !  where  my  blossomed  pear-tree  in  the  hedge 

Leans  to  the  field,  and  scatters  on  the  clover 

Blossoms  and  dewdrops,  —  at  the  bent  spray's  edge,  — 

That's  the  wise  thrush ;  he  sings  each  song  twice  over. 

Lest  you  should  think  he  never  could  re-capture 

The  first  fine  careless  rapture! 

And  though  the  fields  look  rough  with  hoary  dew, 

All  will  be  gay  when  noontide  wakes  anew 

The  buttercups,  —  the  little  children's  dower, — 

Far  brighter  than  this  gaudy  melon-flower ! 

—  Robert  Browning. 


-«  33  8«- 


THE   RIVER   OF   GOLDi 
Part  I 


adverse  ^ 

similar 

violent 

akimbo 

crucible 


reduced 

exquisite 

malicious 

precipice 

alternately 


effectually 

inheritance 

livelihood 

evaporated 

diminutive 


ascertaining 

prismatic 

overwhelm 

disconsolately 

circumference 


When  Southwest  Wind,  Esquire,  entered  the  Treasure 
Valley  and  destroyed  the  property  of  Gluck's  cruel  broth- 
ers, he  vowed  that  it  should  be  his  last  visit,  and  he  was 
as  good  as  his  word.  AVhat  was  worse,  he  had  so  much 
influence  with  his  relations,  the  West  Winds  in  general, 
and  used  it  so  effectually,  that  they  all  adopted  a  similar 
line  of  conduct. 

No  rain  fell  in  the  valley  from  one  year's  end  to  the 
other.  Though  everything  remained  green  and  flourish- 
ing in  the  plains  below,  the  inheritance  of  the  three  broth- 
ers was  a  desert.  What  had  once  been  the  richest  soil  in 
the  kingdom  became  a  shifting  heap  of  red  sand ;  and  the 
brothers,  unable  longer  to  contend  with  the  adverse  skies, 
abandoned  their  valueless  estates  in  despair,  to  seek  some 
means  of  gaining  a  livelihood  among  the  cities  and  people 
of  the  plains.     All  their  money  was  gone,  and  they  had 

1  See  note  on  page  259. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


^  34  Be- 
nothing  left  but  some  curious,  old-fashioned  pieces  of  gold 
plate. 

"  Suppose  we  turn  goldsmiths,"  said  Schwartz  to 
Hans  as  they  entered  the  large  city.  "  It  is  a  good  trade ; 
we  can  put  a  great  deal  of  copper  into  the  gold  without 
any  one's  finding  it  out." 

The  thought  was  agreed  to  be  a  very  good  one ;  they 
hired  a  furnace  and  turned  goldsmiths.  But  two  slight 
circumstances  affected  their  trade :  the  first,  that  people 
did  not  approve  of  the  coppered  gold;  the  second,  that 
the  two  elder  brothers,  whenever  they  sold  anything,  used 
to  leave  little  Gluck  to  mind  the  furnace,  and  go  out  and 
spend  money  for  their  own  pleasure. 

So  they  melted  all  their  gold  without  making  money 
enough  to  buy  more,  and  were  at  last  reduced  to  one  large 
drinking  mug  which  an  uncle  of  his  had  given  to  little 
Gluck,  and  which  he  was  fond  of  and  would  not  have 
parted  with  for  the  world,  though  he  never  drank  any- 
thing out  of  it  but  milk  and  water. 

The  mug  was  a  very  odd  mug  to  look  at.  The  handle 
was  formed  of  two  wreaths  of  flowing  golden  hair,  so 
finely  spun  that  it  looked  more  like  silk  than  metal,  and 
these  wreaths  descended  into  and  mixed  with  a  beard  of  the 
same  exquisite  workmanship,  which  surrounded  and  deco- 
rated a  very  fierce  little  face  of  the  reddest  gold  imagina- 
ble, right  in  front  of  the  mug,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  in  it 
which  seemed  to  command  its  whole  circumference.     It 


-«  35  8«- 

was  impossible  to  drink  out  of  the  mug  without  being  sub- 
jected to  an  intense  gaze  out  of  the  side  of  these  eyes. 
When  it  came  to  the  mug's  turn  to  be  made  into  spoons,  it 
half  broke  poor  little  Gluck's  heart ;  but  the  brothers  only 
laughed  at  him,  tossed  the  mug  into  the  melting-pot,  and 
went  to  the  inn,  leaving  him,  as  usual,  to  pour  the  gold 
into  bars  when  it  was  ready. 

When  they  were  gone,  Gluck  took  a  farewell  look  at 
his  old  friend  in  the  melting-pot.  The  flowing  hair  was 
all  gone ;  nothing  remained  but  the  red  nose  and  the 
sparkling  eyes,  which  looked  more  malicious  than  ever. 
"  And  no  wonder,"  thought  Gluck,  "  after  being  treated 
in  that  way."  He  sauntered  disconsolately  to  the  window 
and  set  himself  down  to  catch  the  fresh  evening  air  and 
escape  the  hot  breath  of  the  furnace.  Now  this  window 
commanded  a  direct  view  of  the  range  of  mountains  which 
overhung  the  Treasure  Valley,  and  more  especially  the 
peak  from  which  fell  the  Golden  River. 

It  was  just  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  when  Gluck 
sat  down  at  the  window  he  saw  the  rocks  of  the  moun- 
tain tops  all  crimson  and  purple  with  the  sunset.  There 
were  bright  tongues  of  fiery  cloud  burning  and  quivering 
above  them ;  and  the  river,  brighter  than  all,  fell  in  a 
waving  column  of  pure  gold  from  precipice  to  precipice, 
with  the  double  arch  of  a  broad  purple  rainbow  stretched 
across  it,  flushing  and  fading  alternately  in  the  wreaths  of 
spray. 


^  36  8«- 

"  All !  "  said  Gluck,  aloud,  after  he  had  looked  at  it  for 
a  while,  "  if  that  river  were  really  all  gold,  what  a  nice 
thing  it  would  be  !  " 

"No,  it  wouldn't,  Gluck,"  said  a  clear,  metallic  voice 
close  at  his  ear. 

"  Bless  me  !  what's  that?"  exclaimed  Gluck,  jumping 
up.  There  was  nobody  to  be  seen.  He  looked  round  the 
room  and  under  the  table,  and  a  great  many  times  behind 
him,  but  there  was  certainly  nobody  there,  and  he  sat 
down  again  at  the  window.  This  time  he  didn't  speak, 
but  he  couldn't  help  thinking  again  that  it  would  be  very 
convenient  if  the  river  were  really  all  gold. 

"  Not  at  all,  my  boy,"  said  the  voice,  louder  than 
before. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Gluck  again,  "  what  is  that  ?  "  He 
looked  again  into  all  the  corners  and  cupboards  and  then 
began  turning  round  and  round  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  thinking  that  there  was  somebody 
behind  him,  when  the  same  voice  struck  again  on  his  ear. 
It  was  singing  now,  very  merrily,  "  Lala-lira-la ; "  no 
words,  only  a  soft,  running  melody,  something  like  that 
of  a  kettle  on  the  boil.  Gluck  looked  out  of  the  window. 
No,  it  was  certainly  in  the  house.  Upstairs  and  down- 
stairs. No,  it  was  certainly  in  that  very  room,  coming  in 
quicker  time  and  clearer  notes  every  moment,  "  Lala- 
lira-la." 

All  at  once  it  struck  Gluck  that  it  sounded  nearer  the 


-^  37  e«- 

furnace.  He  ran  to  the  opening  and  looked  in ;  yes,  he 
heard  aright  —  it  seemed  to  be  coming,  not  only  out  of 
the  furnace,  but  out  of  the  pot.  He  uncovered  it  and  ran 
back  in  a  great  fright,  for  the  pot  was  certainly  singing ! 
He  stood  in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room  with  his  hands 
up  and  his  mouth  open  for  a  minute  or  two,  when  the 
singing  stopped  and  the  voice  became  clear  and  distinct. 
. "  Hollo  !  "  said  the  voice. 

Gluck  made  no  answer. 

"  Hollo,  Gluck,  my  boy,"  said  the  pot  again. 

Gluck  summoned  all  his  energies,  walked  straight  up 
to  the  crucible,  drew  it  out  of  the  furnace,  and  looked  in. 
The  gold  was  all  melted,  and  its  surface  was  as  smooth 
and  polished  as  a  river ;  but  instead  of  reflecting  little 
Gluck's  head  as  he  looked  in,  he  saw  meeting  his  glance 
from  beneath  the  gold  the  red  nose  and  sharp  eyes  of  his 
old  friend  of  the  mug,  a  thousand  times  redder  and  sharper 
than  ever  he  had  seen  them  in  his  life. 

"  Come,  Gluck,  my  boy,"  said  the  voice  out  of  the  pot 
again,  "  I'm  all  right ;  pour  me  out !  " 

But  Gluck  was  too  much  astonished  to  do  anything  of 
the  kind. 

"  Pour  me  out,  I  say !  "  said  the  voice,  rather  gruffly. 

Still  Gluck  couldn't  move. 

''  Will  you  pour  me  out  ?  "  said  the  voice,  passionately, 
^a'mtoohot." 

By  a  violent  effort,  Gluck  recovered  the  use  of  his 


-«  38  9<- 

limbs,  took  hold  of  the  crucible,  and  sloped  it  so  as  to  pour 
out  the  gold.  But  instead  of  a  liquid  stream  there  came 
out  first  a  pair  of  little  yellow  legs,  then  some  coat-tails, 
then  a  pair  of  arms  stuck  akimbo,  and  finally  the  well- 
known  head  of  his  friend  the  mug  —  all  of  which  articles, 
uniting  as  they  rolled  out,  stood  up  energetically  on  the 
floor  in  the  shape  of  a  little  golden  dwarf  about  a  foot  and 
a  half  high. 

"  That's  right !  "  said  the  dwarf,  stretching  out  first 
his  legs  and  then  his  arms,  and  then  shaking  his  head  up 
and  down,  and  as  far  round  as  it  would  go,  for  five  min- 
utes without  stopping,  apparently  with  the  view  of  ascer- 
taining if  he  were  quite  correctly  put  together,  while 
Gluck  stood  looking  at  him  in  speechless  amazement. 

He  was  dressed  in  a  slashed  doublet  of  spun  gold,  so 
fine  in  its  texture  that  the  prismatic  colors  gleamed  over 
it  as  if  on  a  surface  of  mother-of-pearl ;  and  over  this 
brilliant  doublet  his  hair  and  beard  fell  full  halfway  to  the 
ground  in  waving  curls  so  exquisitely  delicate  that  Gluck 
could  hardly  tell  where  they  ended  —  they  seemed  to  melt 
into  the  air.  The  features  of  the  face,  however,  were 
rather  coarse,  slightly  inclining  to  coppery  in  complexion. 
When  the  dwarf  had  finished  his  self-examination,  he 
fixed  his  small,  sharp  eyes  full  on  Gluck,  and  stared  at 
him  for  a  minute  or  two. 

"  No,  it  wouldn't,  Gluck,  my  boy,"  said  the  little  man. 

This  was  certainly  rather  an  abrupt  manner  of  com- 


->3  39  B^ 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN   RIVER  HAD  DISAPPEARED 


^40  8«- 

mencing  conversation.  It  might  indeed  be  supposed  to 
refer  to  the  course  of  Gkick's  thoughts,  which  had  first 
produced  the  dwarf's  observations  out  of  the  melting-pot ; 
but  whatever  it  referred  to,  Gluck  was  not  inclined  to 
dispute  it. 

"  Wouldn't  it,  sir  ?  "  said  Gluck,  very  mildly  indeed. 

"No,"  said  the  dwarf;  "  no,  it  wouldn't."  And  with 
that  the  dwarf  pulled  his  cap  hard  over  his  eyes,  and  took 
two  turns,  of  three  feet  long,  up  and  down  the  room,  lift- 
ing his  legs  very  high,  and  setting  them  down  very  hard. 
This  pause  gave  time  for  Gluck  to  collect  his  thoughts  a 
little,  and  seeing  no  great  reason  to  view  his  diminutive 
visitor  with  dread,  and  feeling  his  curiosity  overcome  his 
great  amazement,  he  ventured  on  a  question  of  peculiar 
delicacy. 

"  Pray,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  rather  hesitatingly,  "  were  you 
my  mug?" 

On  which  the  little  man  turned  sharp  round,  walked 
straight  up  to  Gluck,  and  drew  himself  up  to  his  full 
height.  "  I,"  said  the  little  man,  "  am  the  King  of  the 
Golden  River." 

Whereupon  he  turned  about  and  took  two  more  turns 
some  six  feet  long.  After  which  he  again  walked  up  to 
Gluck  and  stood  still,  as  if  expecting  some  comment  on 
his  communication. 

Gluck  determined  to  say  something,  at  all  events.  "  I 
hope  your  Majesty  is  very  well,"  he  stammered. 


-5g  41  8«- 

"Listen,"  said  the  little  man,  without  deigning  to 
reply  to  this  polite  inquiry.  "  I  am  the  King  of  what  you 
mortals  call  the  Golden  River.  The  shape  you  saw  me  in 
was  owing  to  the  malice  of  a  stronger  king,  from  whose 
enchantments  you  have  this  instant  freed  me.  What  I 
have  seen  of  you,  and  your  conduct  to  your  wicked  broth- 
ers, renders  me  willing  to  serve  you ;  therefore,  attend  to 
what  I  tell  you  ! 

"Whosoever  shall  climb  to  the  top  of  the  mountain 
from  which  you  see  the  Golden  River  issue,  and  shall  cast 
into  the  stream  at  its  source  three  drops  of  holy  water, 
for  him,  and  for  him  only,  the  river  shall  turn  to  gold. 
But  no  one,  failing  at  first,  can  succeed  in  a  second 
attempt ;  and  if  any  one  shall  cast  unholy  water  into 
the  river,  it  will  overwhelm  him,  and  he  will  instantly 
become  a  black  stone." 

So  saying,  the  King  of  the  Golden  River  turned  away, 
and  deliberately  walked  into  the  centre  of  the  hottest 
flame  of  the  furnace.  His  figure  became  red,  white,  trans- 
parent, dazzling,  —  a  blaze  of  intense  light,  —  rose,  trem- 
bled, and  disappeared.  The  King  of  the  Golden  River  had 
evaporated. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  poor  Gluck,  running  to  look  up  the  chim- 
ney after  him.  "Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear  me!  My  mug! 
My  mug  !     My  mug !  " 


-96  42  8«^ 


THE   RIVER   OF   GOLD 


Part  II 


chasm  ^ 

Alpine 

combatants 

mountaineer 

glacier 

wrangling 

imprudent 

monotonous 

vespers 

fantastic 

ignorant 

indomitable 

gnashed 

pinnacles 

recruited 

extraordinary 

myriads 

concealed 

penetrated 

distinguishable 

The  King  of  the  Golden  River  had  hardly  made  this 
extraordinary  exit  before  Schwartz  and  Hans  came  into 
the  house.  The  discovery  of  the  total  loss  of  their  last 
piece  of  plate  made  them  so  angry  that  they  beat  Gluck 
until  they  were  tired,  and  then  dropped  into  a  couple  of 
chairs,  and  requested  to  know  what  he  had  to  say  for  him- 
self. Gluck  told  them  his  story,  of  which,  of  course,  they 
did  not  believe  a  word.  They  beat  him  again  till  their 
arms  were  tired,  and  then  went  to  bed. 

In  the  morning,  however,  when  he  repeated  the  story, 
the  two  brothers  began  to  believe  him.  After  wrangling 
a  long  time  over  the  knotty  question  of  which  of  them 
should  try  his  fortune  first,  they  drew  their  swords  and 
began  fighting.  The  noise  of  the  fray  alarmed  the  neigh- 
bors, who,  finding  that  they  could  not  pacify  the  comba- 
tants, sent  for  the  constable. 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


Hans,  on  hearing  this,  contrived  to  escape  and  hide 
himself ;  but  Schwartz  was  taken  before  the  magistrate, 
fined  for  breaking  the  peace,  and  thrown  into  prison  till 
he  could  pay  the  fine. 

When  Hans  heard  this  he  was  much  delighted,  and 
determined  to  set  out  immediately  for  the  Golden  River. 
How  to  get  the  holy  water  was  the  question.  He  w^ent 
to  the  priest,  but  the  priest  could  not  give  holy  water  to 
such  a  wicked  man.  So  Hans  went  to  vespers  in  the 
evening  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  stole  a  cupful,  and 
returned  home  in  triumph. 

Next  morning  he  got  up  before  the  sun  rose,  poured 
the  holy  water  into  ^  stone  flask,  put  some  bread  and 
meat  in  a  basket,  slung  them  over  his  back,  took  his 
Alpine  staff  in  his  hand,  and  set  off  for  the  mountains. 

On  his  way  out  of  town  he  had  to  pass  the  prison,  and 
as  he  looked  in  at  the  windows,  whom  should  he  see  but 
Schwartz  himself  peeking  out  of  the  bars  and  looking 
very  disconsolate. 

"  Good  morning,  brother,"  said  Hans.  "  Have  you 
any  message  for  the  King  of  the  Golden  River?  " 

Schwartz  gnashed  his  teeth  in  rage,  and  shook  the 
bars  with  all  his  strength  ;  but  Hans  only  laughed  at  him, 
and,  advising  him  to  make  himself  comfortable  till  he 
came  back  again,  shouldered  his  basket  and  marched  off 
in  the  highest  spirits  in  the  w^orld. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  morning  that  might  have  made  any 


^44  St- 
one happy,  even  with  no  Golden  River  to  seek,  for  level 
lines  of  dewy  mist  lay  stretched  along  the  valley,  out  of 
which  rose  the  massy  mountains  —  their  lower  cliffs  in 
pale,  gray  shadow,  hardly  distinguishable  from  the  float- 
ing vapor,  but  gradually  ascending  till  they  caught  the 
sunlight,  which  ran  in  sharp  touches  of  ruddy  color  along 
the  angular  crags,  and  pierced,  in  long  level  rays,  through 
their  fringes  of  spear-like  pine. 

Far  above  shot  up  red  splintered  masses  of  rocks, 
jagged  and  shivered  into  myriads  of  fantastic  forms,  with 
here  and  there  a  streak  of  sunlit  snow  traced  down  their 
chasms  like  a  line  of  forked  lightning ;  and  far  beyond 
and  far  above  all  these,  fainter  than  the  morning  cloud, 
but  purer  and  changeless,  slept,  in  the  blue  sky,  the  ut- 
most peaks  of  the  eternal  snow. 

The  Golden  River,  which  sprang  from  one  of  the  lower 
and  snowless  elevations,  was  now  nearly  in  shadow ;  all 
but  the  uppermost  jets  of  spray,  which  rose  like  slow 
smoke  above  the  cataract,  and  floated  away  in  feeble 
wreaths  upon  the  morning  wind. 

On  this  object,  and  on  this  alone,  Hans's  eyes  and 
thoughts  were  fixed ;  forgetting  the  distance  he  had  to 
traverse,  he  set  off  at  an  imprudent  rate  of  walking, 
which  greatly  exhausted  him  before  he  had  scaled  the 
first  range  of  the  green  and  low  hills.  He  was,  more- 
over, surprised  on  surmounting  them  to  find  that  a  large 
glacier,  of  whose  existence  he  had  been  absolutely  igno- 


-«  45  er- 
rant, lay  between  him  and  the  source  of  the  Golden  River. 
He  entered  on  it  with  the  boldness  of  a  practised  moun- 
taineer ;  yet  he  thought  he  had  never  traversed  so  strange 
or  so  dangerous  a  glacier  in  his  life. 

The  ice  was  excessively  slippery,  and  out  of  all  its 
chasms  came  wild  sounds  of  gushing  water ;  not  monot- 
onous or  low,  but  changeful  and  loud,  rising  occasionally 
in  drifting  passages  of  wild  melody,  then  breaking  off 
into  short,  melancholy  tones  or  sudden  shrieks,  resembling 
those  of  human  voices  in  distress  or  pain. 

The  ice  was  cracked  and  broken  into  thousands  of 
confused  shapes,  but  none,  Hans  thought,  looked  like  the 
ordinary  forms  of  splintered  ice.  There  seemed  a  curious 
expression  about  all  their  outlines  —  a  strange  resemblance 
to  living  features,  distorted  and  scornful.  Myriads  of 
deceitful  shadows  and  lights  played  and  floated  about 
the  pale  blue  pinnacles,  dazzling  and  confusing  the  sight 
of  the  traveller,  while  his  ear  grew  dull  and  his  head 
dizzy  with  the  constant  gush  and  roar  of  the  concealed 
waters. 

These  painful  circumstances  increased  upon  him  as  he 
advanced ;  the  ice  crashed  and  yawned  into  fresh  chasms 
at  his  feet,  tottering  spires  nodded  around  him  and  fell 
thundering  across  his  path ;  and  though  he  had  repeatedly 
faced  these  dangers  on  the  most  terrific  glaciers  and  in 
the  wildest  weather,  it  was  with  a  new  and  oppressive 
feeling  of  panic  terror  that  he  leaped  the  last  chasm,  and 


-«  46  8«- 

flung  himself,  exhausted  and  shuddering,  on  the  firm  turf 
of  the  mountain. 

He  had  been  compelled  to  abandon  his  basket  of  food 
when  he  was  crossing  the  glacier,  and  had  now  no  means 
of  refreshing  himself  but  by  breaking  off  and  eating  some 
of  the  pieces  of  ice.  This,  however,  relieved  his  thirst ; 
an  hour's  repose  recruited  his  hardy  frame,  and  with  the 
indomitable  spirit  of  greed  he  resumed  his  journey  to  the 
source  of  the  Golden  River. 

His  way  lay  straight  up  a  ridge  of  bare  rocks,  without 
a  blade  of  grass  to  relieve  the  foot,  or  a  projecting  angle 
to  afford  an  inch  of  shade  from  the  south  sun.  It  was 
past  noon,  and  the  rays  beat  intensely  upon  the  steep  path, 
while  the  whole  atmosphere  was  motionless  and  penetrated 
with  heat.  Intense  heat  was  soon  added  to  the  bodily 
fatigue  with  which  Hans  was  afflicted  ;  glance  after  glance 
he  cast  on  the  flask  of  water  which  hung  at  his  belt. 
"  Three  drops  are  enough,"  at  last  thought  he ;  "  I  may, 
at  least,  cool  my  lips  with  it." 

He  opened  the  flask  and  was  raising  it  to  his  lips 
when  his  eye  fell  on  an  object  on  the  rock  beside  him. 
He  thought  it  moved.  It  was  a  small  dog,  apparently  in 
the  last  agony  of  death  from  thirst.  Its  tongue  was  out, 
its  jaws  dry,  and  its  limbs  extended  lifelessly.  Its  eye 
moved  to  the  bottle  which  Hans  held  in  his  hand.  He 
raised  it,  drank,  spurned  the  animal  with  his  foot,  and 
passed  on.      And  he  did  not  know  how  it  was,  but  he 


^  47  Be- 
thought that  a  strange  shadow  had  suddenly  come  across 
the  bkie  sky. 

The  path  became  steeper  and  more  rugged  every  mo- 
ment ;  and  the  high  hill  air,  instead  of  refreshing  him, 
seemed  to  throw  his  blood  into  a  fever.  The  noise  of  the 
hill  cataracts  sounded  like  mockery  in  his  ear ;  they  were 
all  distant,  and  his  thirst  increased  every  moment. 

Another  hour  passed,  and  again  he  looked  down  to 
the  flask  at  his  side ;  it  was  half  empty,  but  there  was 
much  more  than  three  drops  in  it.  He  stopped  to  open 
it,  and  again  as  he  did  so,  something  moved  in  the  path 
before  him.  It  was  a  fair  child  stretched  nearly  lifeless 
on  the  rock,  its  eyes  closed,  and  its  lips  parched  and 
burning.  Hans  eyed  it  deliberately,  drank  a  part  of  the 
water  in  his  flask,  and  passed  on.  And  a  dark  gray  cloud 
came  over  the  sun,  and  long,  snake-like  shadows  crept  up 
the  mountain  side. 

Hans  struggled  on.  The  sun  was  sinking,  but  its 
descent  seemed  to  bring  no  coolness ;  the  leaden  weight 
of  the  dead  air  pressed  upon  his  brow  and  heart,  but  the 
goal  was  near.  He  saw  the  cataract  of  the  Golden  River 
springing  from  the  hillside,  scarcely  five  hundred  feet 
above  him.  He  paused  for  a  moment  to  breathe,  and 
sprang  on  to  complete  his  task. 

At  this  instant  a  faint  cry  fell  on  his  ear.  He 
turned  and  saw  a  gray-haired  old  man  extended  on  the 
rocks.     His  eyes  were  sunk,  his  features  deadly  pale  and 


^  48  8<- 

gathered  into  an  expression  of  despair.  "  Water ! "  he 
stretched  his  arms  to  Hans  and  cried  feebly,  "  Water !  I 
am  dying !  " 

"  I  have  none,"  replied  Hans ;  "  thou  hast  had  thy 
share  of  life."  He  strode  over  the  prostrate  body  and 
darted  on.  A  flash  of  blue  lightning  rose  out  of  the  east 
shaped  like  a  sword.  It  shook  thrice  over  the  whole 
heaven,  and  left  it  dark  with  one  heavy,  impenetrable 
shade.  The  sun  was  setting;  it  plunged  toward  the 
horizon  like  a  red-hot  ball. 

The  roar  of  the  Golden  River  rose  on  Hans's  ear.  He 
stood  at  the  brink  of  the  chasm  through  which  it  ran. 
Its  waves  were  filled  with  the  red  glory  of  the  sunset ; 
they  shook  the  crests  like  tongues  of  fire,  and  flashes  of 
bloody  light  gleamed  along  their  foam.  Their  sound 
came  mightier  and  mightier  on  his  senses ;  his  brain  grew 
giddy  with  the  prolonged  thunder.  Shuddering,  he  drew 
the  flask  from  his  girdle  and  hurled  it  into  the  centre 
of  the  torrent.  As  he  did  so  an  icy  chill  shot  through 
his  limbs ;  he  staggered,  shrieked,  and  fell.  The  waters 
closed  over  his  cry,  and  the  moaning  of  the  river  rose 
wildly  into  the  night  as  it  gushed  over 

ONE  BLACK  STONE. 


-»S  49  8«- 


THE  RIVER   OF  GOLD 


Part  III 

ascent  ^ 

monarch 

acquaintance 

zenith 

piteously 

diminished 

fragment 

mournfully 

intolerable 

mockery 

countenance 

innumerable 

Poor  little  Gluck  waited  very  anxiously,  alone  in  the 
house,  for  Hans's  return.  Finding  he  did  not  come  back, 
he  was  terribly  frightened,  and  went  and  told  Schwartz 
in  the  prison  all  that  had  happened.  Then  Schwartz  was 
very  much  pleased,  and  said  that  Hans  must  have  cer- 
tainly been  turned  into  a  black  stone ;  he  should  have  all 
the  gold  to  himself.  But  Gluck  was  very  sorry  and  cried 
all  night.  When  he  got  up  in  the  morning  there  was 
no  bread  in  the  house  nor  any  money;  so  Gluck  went 
and  hired  himself  to  another  goldsmith,  and  he  worked 
so  hard  and  so  neatly,  and  so  long  every  day  that  he 
soon  got  money  enough  together  to  pay  his  brother's 
fine,  and  he  went  and  gave  it  all  to  Schwartz,  and 
Schwartz  got  out  of  prison.  Then  Schwartz  was  quite 
pleased,  and  said  that  he  should  have  some  of  the  gold 
of  the  river;  but  Gluck  only  begged  that  he  would  go 
and  see  what  had  become  of  Hans. 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


Now  when  Schwartz  heard  that  Hans  had  stolen  the 
holy  water,  he  thought  to  himself  that  such  a  proceeding 
might  not  be  considered  altogether  correct  by  the  King 
of  the  Golden  River,  and  determined  to  manage  matters 
better.  So  he  took  some  more  of  Gluck's  money  and 
bought  the  water.  Then  Schwartz  was  sure  that  it  was 
all  quite  right.  So  he  got  up  early  in  the  morning, 
before  the  sun  rose,  took  some  bread  and  meat  in  a 
basket,  put  the  water  in  a  flask,  and  set  off  for  the 
mountain. 

Like  his  brother,  he  was  much  surprised  at  the  sight 
of  the  glacier,  and  had  great  difficulty  in  crossing  it  even 
after  leaving  his  basket  behind  him.  The  day  was  cloud- 
less, but  not  bright ;  there  was  a  heavy  purple  haze  hang- 
ing over  the  sky,  and  the  hills  looked  lowering  and 
gloomy.  As  Schwartz  climbed  the  steep  rocky  path,  the 
thirst  came  upon  him,  as  it  had  upon  his  brother,  until 
he  lifted  the  flask  to  his  lips  to  drink.  Then  he  saw  the 
fair  child  lying  near  him  on  the  rocks,  and  it  cried  to 
him  and  moaned  for  water. 

"  Water,  indeed  !  "  said  Schwartz  ;  "  I  haven't  enough 
for  myself,"  and  passed  on. 

As  he  went  he  thought  the  sunbeams  became  dim, 
and  he  saw  a  low  bank  of  black  cloud  rising  out  of  the 
west ;  and  when  he  had  climbed  for  another  hour  the 
thirst  overcame  him  again,  and  he  would  have  drunk. 
Then  he  saw  the  old  man  lying  before  him  on  the  path, 


-«  51  8«- 

and  he  heard  him  cry  out  for  water.  "  Water,  indeed  !  " 
said  Schwartz ;  "  I  haven't  half  enough  for  myself,"  and 
on  he  went. 

Then  again  the  light  seemed  to  fade  before  his  eyes, 
and  he  looked  up,  and  behold,  a  mist  of  the  color  of  blood 
had  come  over  the  sun,  and  the  bank  of  the  black  cloud 
had  risen  very  high.  Its  edges  were  tossing  and  tumbling 
like  the  waves  of  an  angry  sea,  casting  long  shadows 
which  flickered  over  Schwartz's  path. 

Then  Schwartz  climbed  for  another  hour.  Again  his 
thirst  returned,  and  as  he  lifted  his  flask  to  his  lips  he 
thought  he  saw  his  brother  Hans  lying  exhausted  on  the 
path  before  him.  As  he  gazed  the  figure  stretched  his 
arms  to  him  and  cried  for  water.  "Ah,  ah!''  laughed 
Schwartz  ;  "  are  you  there  ?  Eemember  the  prison  bars, 
my  boy.  Water,  indeed !  Do  you  suppose  I  carried  it 
all  the  way  up  here  for  you  ?  "  And  he  strode  over  the 
figure ;  yet,  as  he  passed,  he  thought  he  saw  a  strange 
expression  of  mockery  about  its  lips.  When  he  had  gone 
a  few  yards  farther  he  looked  back,  but  the  figure  was 
not  there. 

A  sudden  horror  came  over  Schwartz,  he  knew  not 
why ;  but  the  thirst  for  gold  prevailed  over  his  fear,  and 
he  rushed  on.  The  bank  of  black  cloud  rose  to  the  zenith, 
and  out  of  it  came  bursts  of  spiry  lightning ;  waves  of 
darkness  seemed  to  heave  and  float  between  their  flashes 
over  the  whole  heavens.     The  sky  where  the  sun  was 


^  52  »- 

setting  was  all  level,  and  like  a  lake  of  blood,  a  strong 
wind  came  out  of  that  sky,  tearing  its  crimson  clouds 
into  fragments  and  scattering  them  far  into  the  darkness. 
When  Schwartz  stood  by  the  brink  of  the  Golden 
River,  its  waves  were  black  like  thunder  clouds,  but  their 
foam  was  like  fire.  The  roar  of  the  waters  below  and 
the  thunder  above  met  as  he  cast  the  flask  into  the 
stream.  And  as  he  did  so  the  lightning  glared  in  his 
eyes,  the  earth  gave  way  beneath  him,  and  the  waters 
closed  over  his  cry.  The  moaning  of  the  river  rose  wildly 
into  the  night  as  it  gushed  over 

TWO   BLACK  STONES. 

When  Gluck  found  that  Schwartz  did  not  come  back, 
he  was  very  sorry,  and  did  not  know  what  to  do.  He 
had  no  money,  and  was  obliged  to  hirp  himself  again 
to  the  goldsmith,  who  worked  him  very  hard  and  gave 
him  little  money.  So  after  a  month  or  two  Gluck  grew 
tired,  and  made  up  his  mind  to  try  his  fortune  with 
the  Golden  River.  "  The  little  king  looked  very  kind," 
thought  he.  "  I  don't  think  he  will  turn  me  into  a  black 
stone."  So  he  went  to  the  priest,  and  the  priest  gave 
him  some  holy  water  as  soon  as  he  asked  for  it.  Then 
Gluck  put  some  bread  and  the  bottle  of  water  into  his 
basket,  and  set  off  very  early  for  the  mountain. 

If  the  glacier  had  occasioned  a  great  deal  of  fatigue  to 
his  brothers,  it  was  twenty  times  worse  for  him,  who  was 


neither  so  strong  nor  so  practised  on  the  mountains.  He 
had  several  very  bad  falls,  lost  his  basket  and  bread, 
and  was  much  frightened  at  the  strange  noises  under  the 
ice.  He  lay  a  long  time  to  rest  on  the  grass  after  he 
got  over,  and  he  began  to  climb  the  hill  in  the  hottest 
part  of  the  day.  When  he  had  climbed  for  an  hour, 
he  was  thirsty,  and  was  going  to  drink,  when  he  saw  an 
old  man  coming  down  the  path  above  him,  looking  very 
feeble  and  leaning  on  a  staff. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  am  faint  with  thirst ; 
give  me  some  of  that  water !  "  Then  Gluck  looked  at 
him,  and  when  he  saw  that  he  was  pale  and  weary,  he 
gave  him  the  water.  "Only,  pray,  don't  drink  it  all," 
said  Ghick.  But  the  man  drank  a  great  deal,  and  gave 
him  back  the  bottle  two-thirds  empty.  Then  he  bade 
him  good  speed,  and  Gluck  went  on  again  merrily.  And 
the  path  became  easier  to  his  feet,  and  some  grasshoppers 
began  singing  upon  the  bank ;  and  Gluck  thought  he  had 
never  heard  such  merry  singing. 

Then  he  went  on  for  another  hour,  and  his  thirst 
increased  so  that  he  thought  he  should  be  forced  to  drink. 
But  as  he  raised  the  flask  he  saw  a  little  child  lying 
panting  by  the  roadside,  and  it  cried  out  piteously  for 
water.  Then  Gluck  struggled  with  himself,  and  deter- 
mined to  bear  the  thirst  a  little  longer,  and  he  put  the 
bottle  to  the  child's  lips,  and  it  drank  all  but  a  few  drops. 
Then  it  smiled  on  him,  and  got  up  and  ran  down  the  hill : 


-«  54  B«- 

and  Gluck  looked  after  it  till  it  became  as  small  as 
a  little  star,  and  then  turned  and  began  climbing  again. 
And  then  there  were  all  kinds  of  sweet  flowers  growing 
on  the  rocks,  —  bright  green  moss,  with  pale  pink  starry 
flowers,  and  soft  bell  gentians,  more  blue  than  the  sky  at 
its  deepest,  and  pure  white  transparent  lilies.  Crimson 
and  purple  butterflies  darted  hither  and  thither,  and  the 
sky  sent  down  such  pure  light  that  Gluck  had  never  felt 
so  happy  in  his  life. 

Yet,  when  he  had  climbed  for  another  hour  his  thirst 
became  intolerable  again ;  and  when  he  looked  at  his 
bottle,  he  saw  that  there  were  only  five  or  six  drops  left 
in  it,  and  he  could  not  venture  to  drink.  As  he  was 
hanging  the  flask  to  his  belt  again  he  saw  a  little  dog 
lying  on  the  rocks,  gasping  for  breath  —  just  as  Hans 
had  seen  it  on  the  day  of  his  ascent.  And  Gluck  stopped 
and  looked  at  it  and  then  at  the  Golden  River,  not  five 
hundred  yards  above  him ;  and  he  thought  of  the  dwarf's 
words,  "No  one  can  succeed  except  in  his  first  attempt," 
and  he  tried  to  pass  the  dog,  but  it  whined  piteously,  and 
Gluck  stopped  again. 

"Poor  beastie,"  said  Gluck,  "it'll  be  dead  when  I 
come  down  again."  Then  he  looked  closer  and  closer  at 
it,  and  its  eyes  turned  on  him  so  mournfully  that  he  could 
not  bear  it.  "  Confound  the  king  and  his  gold,  too !  " 
said  Gluck ;  and  he  opened  the  flask  and  poured  all  the 
water  into  the  dog's  mouth. 


-58  55  9«- 

Immediately  the  little  dog  sprang  up  and  stood  on  its 
liind  legs.  Its  tail  disappeared ;  its  ears  became  long, 
longer,  silky,  golden ;  its  nose  became  very  red ;  its  eye 
became  very  twinkling;  in  three  seconds  the  dog  was 
gone,  and  before  Gluck  stood  his  old  acquaintance,  the 
King  of  the  Golden  River. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  monarch  ;  "  but  don't  be  fright- 
ened ;  it's  all  right ; "  for  Gluck  stopped  amazed  at  this 
unlooked-for  reply  to  his  last  remark.  "  Why  didn't  j^ou 
come  before,"  continued  the  dwarf,  "  instead  of  sending 
those  brothers  of  yours  for  me  to  have  the  trouble  of 
turning  into  stones  ?     Very  hard  stones  they  make,  too." 

"  Oh,  dear  me  !  "  said  Gluck,  "  have  you  really  been  so 
cruel?" 

"Cruel?"  said  the  dwarf.  "They  poured  unholy 
water  into  my  stream ;  do  you  suppose  that  I  am  going 
to  allow  that  ?  " 

"Why,"  said  Gluck,  "I  am  sure,  sir,  —  your  Majesty, 
I  mean,  —  they  got  the  water  out  of  the  church  font." 

"Very  probably,"  replied  the  dwarf;  "but,"  and  his 
countenance  grew  stern  as  he  spoke,  "the  water  which 
has  been  refused  to  the  weary  and  dying  is  unholy,  and 
only  the  water  which  is  found  in  the  vessels  of  mercy 
is  holy." 

So  saying,  the  dwarf  stooped  and  plucked  the  lily  that 
grew  at  his  feet.  On  its  white  leaves  there  hung  three 
drops  of  clear  dew.     He  shook  them  into  the  flask  which 


^  56  e<- 

Gluck  held  in  his  hand.  "  Cast  these  into  the  river,"  he 
said,  ''  and  descend  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  into 
the  Treasure  Valley.     And  so  good  speed  !  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  figure  of  the  dwarf  became  indistinct. 
The  playing  colors  of  his  robe  formed  themselves  into  a 
mist  of  dewy  light;  he  stood  for  an  instant  veiled  with 
them  as  with  the  belt  of  a  broad  rainbow.  The  colors 
grew  faint,  the  mist  rose  into  the  air  —  the  monarch  had 
evaporated. 

Gluck  climbed  to  the  brink  of  the  Golden  River,  and 
its  waves  were  as  clear  as  crystal  and  as  brilliant  as 
the  sun.  When  he  cast  the  three  drops  of  dew  into  the 
stream,  there  opened,  where  they  fell,  a  small  circular 
whirlpool,  into  which  the  waters  descended  with  a  musical 
noise. 

Gluck  stood  watching  it  for  some  time,  very  much 
disappointed  because  the  river  not  only  was  not  turned 
into  gold,  but  its  waters  seemed  much  diminished  in 
quantity,  yet  he  obeyed  his  friend  the  dwarf,  and  de- 
scended the  other  side  of  the  mountains  toward  the  Treas- 
ure Valley. 

As  he  went  he  thought  he  heard  the  noise  of  water 
working  its  way  under  the  ground.  When  he  came  in 
sight  of  the  Treasure  Valley,  behold,  a  river  like  the 
Golden  River  was  springing  from  a  new  cleft  of  the  rocks 
above  it,  and  was  flowing  in  innumerable  streams  among 
the  dry  heaps  of  red  sand. 


^  57  6«- 

As  Gluck  gazed,  fresh  grass  sprang  beside  the  new 
streams,  and  creeping  plants  grew  and  climbed  over  the 
moistening  soil.  Young  flowers  opened  suddenly  along 
the  river  sides,  as  stars  leap  out  when  twilight  is  deepen- 
ing, while  thickets  of  myrtle  and  tendrils  of  vine  cast 
lengthening  shadows  over  the  valley  as  they  grew.  Thus 
the  Treasure  Valley  became  a  garden  again,  and  the  in- 
heritance which  had  been  lost  by  cruelty  was  regained  by 
love. 

Gluck  went  and  dwelt  in  the  valley,  and  the  poor 
were  never  driven  from  his  door ;  and  for  him  the  river 
became  a  river  of  gold,  according  to  the  dwarf's  promise. 

And  to  this  day  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  point  out 
the  place  where  the  three  drops  of  dew  were  cast  into  the 
stream,  and  trace  the  course  of  the  Golden  River  under- 
ground until  it  emerges  in  the  Treasure  Valley.  At  the 
top  of  the  cataract  of  the  Golden  River  are  still  to  be  seen 
Two  Black  Stones,  round  which  the  waters  howl  mourn- 
fully every  day  at  sunset ;  and  these  stones  are  still  called 
by  the  people  of  the  valley  the  Black  Brothers. 

— John  Ruskin. 


^  58  8<- 


THE  WHITE  KNIGHT  1 


victory  '^ 

bridle 

offended 

discontented 

helmet 

relieved 

instantly 

anxiously 

prisoner 

rescued 

generally 

doubtfully 

vexation 

dismay 

encouraged 

brandishing 

evidently 

leisurely 

ventured 

bewilderment 

Alice  sat  on  the  bank  of  the  little  brook  thinking  over 
her  adventures  and  wondering  where  she  should  go  next, 
when  her  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  loud  shouting 
of,  "  Ahoy !  Ahoy  !  Check  !  "  and  a  knight,  dressed  in 
crimson  armor,  came  galloping  down  upon  her,  brandish- 
ing a  great  club.  Just  as  he  reached  her,  the  horse 
stopped  suddenly.  "  You're  my  prisoner !  "  the  knight 
cried,  as  he  tumbled  off  his  horse. 

Startled  as  she  was,  Alice  was  more  frightened  for 
him  than  for  herself  at  the  moment,  and  watched  him 
with  some  anxiety  as  he  mounted  again.  As  soon  as  he 
was  comfortably  in  the  saddle,  he  began  once  more, 
"  You're  my  — "  but  here  another  voice  broke  in,  "Ahoy! 
Ahoy!  Check! "  and  Alice  looked  round  in  some  surprise 
for  the  new  enemy. 

This  time  it  was  a  White  Knight.  He  drew  up  at 
Alice's  side,  and  tumbled  off  his  horse  just  as  the  Red 

1  See  note  on  page  259. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulai-y. 


-«  59  B«- 

Knight  had  done;  then  he  got  on  again,  and  the  two 
Knights  sat  and  looked  at  each  other  for  some  time  with- 
out speaking.  Alice  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in 
some  bewilderment. 

"  She's  my  prisoner,"  the  Red  Knight  said  at  last. 

''  Yes,  but  then  I  came  and  rescued  her !  "  the  White 
Knight  replied. 

''  Well,  we  must  fight  for  her,  then,"  said  the  Red 
Knight  as  he  took  up  his  helmet  (which  hung  from  the 
saddle  and  was  something  the  shape  of  a  horse's  head) 
and  put  it  on. 

"  You  will  observe  the  Rules  of  Battle,  of  course,"  the 
White  Knight  remarked,  putting  on  his  helmet,  too. 

"I  always  do,"  said  the  Red  Knight,  and  they  began 
banging  away  at  each  other  with  such  fury  that  Alice  got 
behind  a  tree  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  blows. 

"  I  wonder  what  the  Rules  of  Battle  are,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  watched  the  fight,  timidly  peeping  out 
from  her  hiding-place.  "  One  Rule  seems  to  be,  that  if 
one  knight  hits  the  other,  he  knocks  him  off  his  horse; 
and,  if  he  misses,  he  tumbles  off  himself.  And  another 
Rule  seems  to  be  that  they  hold  their  clubs  with  their 
arms,  as  if  they  were  Punch  and  Judy.  What  a  noise 
they  make  when  they  tumble !  Just  like  a  whole  set  of 
fire-irons  falling  into  the  fender!  And  how  quiet  the 
horses  are !  They  let  them  get  on  and  off  just  as  if  they 
were  tables." 


^  60  »- 

Another  Rule  of  Battle,  that  Alice  had  not  noticed, 
seemed  to  be  that  they  always  fell  on  their  heads;  and 
the  battle  ended  with  their  both  falling  off  in  this  way, 
side  by  side.  When  they  got  up  again  they  shook  hands, 
and  then  the  Red  Knight  mounted  and  galloped  off. 

"  It  was  a  glorious  victory,  wasn't  it  ?  "  said  the  White 
Knight,  as  he  came  up  panting. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Alice  said  doubtfully.  "  I  don't  want 
to  be  anybody's  prisoner.     I  want,  to  be  a  Queen." 

"  So  you  will,  when  you've  crossed  the  next  brook," 
said  the  White  Knight.  "I'll  see  you  safe  to  the  end  of 
the  woods — and  then  I  must  go  back,  you  know.  That's 
the  end  of  my  move." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Alice.  "  May  I  help 
you  off  with  your  helmet?"  It  was  evidently  more  than 
he  could  manage  by  himself;  however,  she  managed  to 
shake  him  out  of  it  at  last. 

"  Now^  one  can  breathe  more  easily,"  said  the  Knight, 
putting  back  his  shaggy  hair  with  both  hands,  and  turn- 
ing his  gentle  face  and  large,  mild  eyes  to  Alice.  She 
thought  she  had  never  seen  such  a  strange-looking  soldier 
in  her  life. 

He  was  dressed  in  tin  armor,  which  seemed  to  fit 
him  very  badly,  and  he  had  a  queer-shaped  little  deal  box 
fastened  across  his  shoulders  upside  down,  with  the  lid 
hanging  open.     Alice  looked  at  it  with  great  curiosity. 

"I  see  you're  admiring  my  little  box,"  the  Knight 


-^  61  8^ 

said  in  a  friendly  tone.  "It's  my  own  invention  —  to 
keep  clothes  and  sandwiches  in.  You  see  I  carry  it  up- 
side down,  so  that  the  rain  can't  get  in." 

"  But  the  things  can  get  out/'  Alice  gently  remarked. 
"  Do  you  know  the  lid's  open  ?" 

"  I  didn't  know  it,"  the  Knight  said,  a  shade  of  vexa- 
tion passing  over  his  face.  "  Then  all  the  things  must 
have  fallen  out!  And  the  box  is  no  use  without  them." 
He  unfastened  it  as  he  spoke,  and  was  just  going  to  throw 
it  into  the  bushes  when  a  sudden  thought  seemed  to  strike 
him,  and  he  hung  it  carefully  on  a  tree.  *"  Can  you  guess 
why  I  did  that?"  he  said  to  Alice. 

Alice  shook  her  head. 

"In  hope  some  bees  may  make  a  nest  in  it  —  then  I 
should  get  the  honey." 

"  But  you've  got  a  bee-hive  —  or  something  like  one  — 
fastened  to  the  saddle,"  said  Alice. 

"  Yes,  it's  a  very  good  bee-hive,"  the  Knight  said,  "  but 
not  a  single  bee  has  come  near  it  yet.  And  the  other  thing 
is  a  mouse-trap.  I  suppose  the  mice  keep  the  bees  out  — 
or  the  bees  keep  the  mice  out,  I  don't  know  which." 

"  I  was  wondering  what  the  mouse-trap  was  for,"  said 
Alice.  "  It  isn't  very  likely  there  would  be  any  mice  on 
the  horse's  back." 

"  Not  very  likely,  perhaps,"  said  the  Knight ;  "  but,  if 
they  do  come,  I  don't  choose  to  have  them  running  all 
about." 


^  62  S«- 

"  You  see,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause,  '^  it's  as  well  to 
be  provided  for  everything.  That's  the  reason  the  horse 
has  all  those  anklets  round  his  feet." 

"  But  what  are  they  for  ?  "  Alice  asked  in  a  tone  of 
great  curiosity. 

"  To  guard  against  the  bites  of  sharks,"  the  Knight 
replied.  "  It's  an  invention  of  my  own.  And  now  help 
me  on.  I'll  go  with  you  to  the  end  of  the  wood  — 
"What's  that  dish  for?" 

"  It's  meant  for  plum  cake,"  said  Alice. 

"  We'd  better  take  it  with  us,"  the  Knight  said.  "  It'll 
come  in  handy  if  we  find  any  plum  cake.  Help  me  to  get 
it  into  this  bag." 

This  took  a  long  time  to  manage,  though  Alice  held 
the  bag  open  very  carefully,  because  the  Knight  was  so 
very  awkward  in  putting  in  the  dish ;  the  first  two  or 
three  times  that  he  tried  he  fell  in  himself  instead.  "It's 
rather  a  tight  fit,  you  see,"  he  said,  as  they  got  it  in  at 
last ;  "  there  are  so  many  candlesticks  in  the  bag."  And 
he  hung  it  to  the  saddle,  which  was  already  loaded  with 
bunches  of  carrots,  and  fire-irons,  and  many  other  things. 

"  I  hope  you've  got  your  hair  well  fastened  on  ?  "  he 
continued,  as  they  set  off. 

"  Only  in  the  usual  way,"  Alice  said,  smiling. 

"That's  hardly  enough,"  he  said  anxiously.  "You 
see  the  wind  is  so  very  strong  here.  It's  as  strong  as 
soup." 


-58  63  8«- 


THE   WHITE   KNIGHT 


^  64  8«- 

"  Have  you  invented  a  plan  for  keeping  the  hair  from 
being  blown  oif  ?  "  Alice  inquired. 

'•  Not  yet,"  said  the  Knight.  "  But  I've  got  a  plan 
for  keeping  it  from  falling  off." 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  it  very  much." 

"  First  you  take  an  upright  stick,"  said  the  Knight. 
"  Then  you  make  your  hair  creep  upon  it  like  a  fruit  tree. 
Now  the  reason  hair  falls  off  is  because  it  hangs  doivn  — 
things  never  fall  upivards,  you  know.  It's  a  plan  of  my 
own  invention.     You  may  try  it  if  you  like." 

It  didn't  sound  a  comfortable  plan,  Alice  thought,  and 
for  a  few  minutes  she  walked  on  in  silence,  puzzling  over 
the  idea,  and  every  now  and  then  stopping  to  help  the 
poor  Knight,  who  certainly  was  not  a  good  rider. 

Whenever  the  horse  stopped  (which  it  did  very  often), 
he  fell  off  in  front;  and  whenever  it  went  on  again  (which 
it  generally  did  rather  suddenly),  he  fell  off  behind.  Other- 
wise he  kept  on  pretty  well,  except  that  he  had  a  habit  of 
now  and  then  falling  off  sideways,  and  as  he  generally  did 
this  on  the  side  on  which  Alice  was  walking,  she  soon 
found  that  it  was  the  best  plan  not  to  walk  quite  close 
to  the  horse. 

"  I'm  afraid  you've  not  had  much  practice  in  riding," 
she  ventured  to  say,  as  she  was  helping  him  up  from  his 
fifth  tumble. 

The  Knight  looked  very  much  surprised,  and  a  little 
offended  at  the  remark.     "  What  makes  you  say  that  ?  " 


^  65  S«- 

he  aske'd,  as  he  scrambled  back  into  the  saddle,  keeping 
hold  of  Alice's  hair  with  one  hand,  to  save  himself  from 
falling  over  on  the  other  side. 

"  Because  people  don't  fall  off  quite  so  often  when 
they've  had  much  practice." 

"■  I've  had  plenty  of  practice,"  the  Knight  said  very 
gravely  ;    ''  plenty  of  practice." 

Alice  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  say  than 
"  Indeed  ? "  but  she  said  it  as  heartily  as  she  could. 
They  went  on  a  little  way  in  silence  after  this,  —  the 
Knight  with  his  eyes  shut,  muttering  to  himself,  and 
Alice  watching  anxiously  for  the  next  tumble. 

"  The  great  art  of  riding,"  the  Knight  suddenly  began 
in  a  loud  voice,  waving  his  right  arm  as  he  spoke,  "  is  to 
keep  —  "  Here  the  sentence  ended  as  suddenly  as  it  had 
begun,  as  the  Kniglit  fell  heavily  on  the  top  of  his  head 
exactly  in  the  path  where  Alice  was  walking.  She  was 
quite  frightened  this  time,  and  said  in  an  anxious  tone,  as 
she  picked  him  up,  "  I  hope  no  bones  are  broken  ?  " 

"None  to  speak  of,"  the  Knight  said,  as  if  he  didn't 
mind  breaking  two  or  three  of  them.  "  The  great  art 
of  riding,  as  I  was  saying,  is  —  to  keep  your  balance 
properly.     Like  this,  you  know  —  " 

He  let  go  the  bridle  and  stretched  out  both  his  arms 
to  show  Alice  what  he  meant,  and  this  time  he  fell  flat  on 
his  back,  right  under  the  horse's  feet. 

"  Plenty  of  practice,"  he  went    on  repeating  all  the 


-«  66  B«- 

time  that  Alice  was  getting  him  on  his  feet  again, 
'Aplenty  of  practice." 

"  It's  too  ridiculous  !  "  cried  Alice.  "  You  ought  to 
have  a  wooden  horse  on  wheels." 

"  Does  that  kind  go  smoothly  ? "  the  Knight  asked 
in  a  tone  of  great  interest,  clasping  his  arms  round  the 
horse's  neck  as  he  spoke,  just  in  time  to  save  himself 
from  tumbling  off  again. 

"  Much  more  smoothly  than  a  live  horse,"  Alice  said, 
with  a  little  scream  of  laughter,  in  spite  of  all  she  could 
do  to  prevent  it. 

"  I'll  get  one,"  the  Knight  said  thoughtfully  to  him- 
self.    ''  One  or  two,  —  several." 

There  was  a  short  silence  after  this,  and  then  the 
Knight  went  on  again.  "I'm  a  great  hand  at  inventing 
things.  Now,  I  dare  say  you  noticed,  the  last  time  you 
picked  me  up,  that  I  was  looking  rather  thoughtful  ?  " 

"  You  icere  a  little  grave,"  said  Alice. 

"  Well,  just  then  I  was  inventing  a  new  way  of  get- 
ting over  a  gate  —  would  you  like  to  hear  it  ?  " 

"  Very  much,  indeed,"  said  Alice. 

"I'll  tell  you  how  I  came  to  think  of  it,"  said  the 
Knight.  "  You  see,  I  said  to  myself,  '  The  only  difficulty 
is  with  the  feet ;  the  head  is  high  enough  already.'  Now, 
first  I  put  my  head  on  the  top  of  the  gate  —  the  head's 
high  enough  —  I  stand  on  my  head  —  then  the  feet  are 
high  enough,  you  see  —  then  I'm  over,  you  see." 


-^  67  8«- 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you'd  be  over  when  that  was  done," 
Alice  said  thoughtfully ;  ^'  but  don't  you  think  it  would 
be  rather  hard  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  tried  it  yet,"  the  Knight  said  gravely, 
"  so  I  can't  tell  for  certain ;  but  I'm  afraid  it  would  be  a 
little  hard." 

He  looked  so  vexed  at  the  idea,  that  Alice  changed  the 
subject  hastily.  "What  a  curious  helmet  you've  got!" 
she  said  cheerfully.     "  Is  that  your  invention,  too  ?  " 

The  Knight  looked  down  proudly  at  his  helmet,  which 
hung  from  the  saddle.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  but  I've  in- 
vented a  better  one  than  that —  like  a  sugar-loaf.  When 
I  used  to  wear  it,  if  I  fell  off  the  horse,  it  always  touched 
the  ground  directly.  So  I  had  a  very  little  way  to  fall, 
you  see  —  But  there  loas  the  danger  of  falling  into  it, 
to  be  sure.  That  happened  to  me  once  —  and  the  worst 
of  it  was,  before  I  could  get  out  again,  the  other  White 
Knight  came  and  put  it  on.  He  thought  it  was  his  own 
helmet." 

The  Knight  looked  so  solemn  about  it  that  Alice  did 
not  dare  to  laugh.  '-  I'm  afraid  you  must  have  hurt  him," 
she  said,  in  a  trembling  voice,  "  being  on  the  top  of  his 
head." 

"  I  had  to  kick  him,  of  course,"  the  Knight  said,  very 
seriously.  "  And  then  he  took  the  helmet  off  again;  but 
it  took  hours  and  hours  to  get  me  out.  I  was  as  fast  as 
—  as  lightning,  you  know." 


-«  68  6«- 

"  But  that's  a  different  kind  of  fastness,"  Alice 
objected. 

The  Knight  shook  his  head.  "  It  was  all  kinds  of 
fastness  with  me,  I  can  assure  you,"  he  said.  He  raised 
his  hands  as  he  said  this,  and  instantly  rolled  out  of  the 
saddle  and  fell  headlong  into  a  deep  ditch. 

Alice  ran  to  the  side  of  the  ditch  to  look  for  him. 
She  was  rather  startled  by  the  fall,  and  she  was  afraid 
that  he  really  was  hurt  this  time.  However,  though  she 
could  see  nothing  but  the  soles  of  his  feet,  she  was  much 
relieved  to  hear  that  he  was  talking  in  his  usual  tone. 
"All  kinds  of  fastness,"  he  repeated  ;  "  but  it  was  careless 
of  him  to  put  another  man's  helmet  on  —  with  the  man 
in  it,  too." 

"  How  can  you  go  on  talking  so  quietly,  head  down- 
wards?" Alice  asked,  as  she  dragged  him  out  by  the  feet 
and  laid  him  in  a  heap  on  the  bank. 

The  Knight  looked  surprised  at  the  question.  "  What 
does  it  matter  where  my  body  happens  to  be?"  he  said. 
"  My  mind  goes  on  working  all  the  same.  In  fact,  the 
more  head-downwards  I  am,  the  more  I  keep  inventing 
new  things.  The  cleverest  thing  of  the  sort  that  I  ever 
did,  was  inventing  a  pudding  during  the  meat-course." 

"  In  time  to  have  it  cooked  for  the  next  course  ?  "  said 
Alice.     "  Well,  that  ivas  quick  work,  certainly !  " 

"  Well,  not  the  next  course,"  the  Knight  said  in  a 
thoughtful  tone ;  "  no,  certainly  not  the  next  coursed 


^  69  B«- 

"  Then  it  would  have  to  be  the  next  day.  I  suppose 
you  wouldn't  have  two  pudding-courses  in  one  dinner?" 

"  Well,  not  the  next  day,"  the  Knight  repeated  as 
before;  "not  the  next  day.  In  fact,"  he  went  on,  hold- 
ing his  head  down,  and  his  face  getting  lower  and  lower, 
"  I  don't  believe  that  pudding  ever  loas  cooked  !  In  fact, 
I  don't  believe  that  pudding  ever  icill  be  cooked!  And 
yet  it  was  a  very  clever  pudding  to  invent." 

"What  did  you  mean  it  to  be  made  of?"  asked  Alice, 
hoping  to  cheer  him  up,  for  the  poor  Knight  seemed  quite 
low-spirited  about  it. 

"  It  began  with  blotting  paper,"  the  Knight  answered. 

"  That  wouldn't  be  very  nice,  I'm  afraid  —  " 

"  Not  very  nice  alone,''  he  interrupted  quite  eagerly ; 
"  but  you've  no  idea  what  a  difference  it  makes  mixing  it 
with  other  things  —  such  as  gunpowder  and  sealing-wax. 
And  here  I  must  leave  you."  They  had  just  come  to  the 
end  of  the  wood. 

The  Knight  gathered  up  the  reins  and  turned  his 
horse's  head  along  the  road  by  which  they  had  come. 
"  You've  only  a  few  yards  to  go,"  he  said,  "  down  the  hill 
and  over  that  little  brook,  and  then  you'll  be  a  Queen. 
But  you'll  stay  and  see  me  off  first  ?  "  he  added,  as  Alice 
turned  with  an  eager  look  in  the  direction  to  which  he 
pointed.  "  I  shan't  be  long.  You'll  wait  and  wave  your 
handkerchief  when  I  get  to  that  turn  in  the  road?  I 
think  it'll  encourage  me,  you  see." 


-«  70  8<- 

"  Of  course  I'll  wait,"  said  Alice ;  "  and  thank  you 
very  much  for  coming  so  far." 

So  they  shook  hands,  and  then  the  Knight  rode  slowly 
away  into  the  forest.  ''  It  won't  take  long  to  see  him 
off,  I  expect,"  Alice  said  to  herself,  as  she  stood  watching 
him.  "  There  he  goes !  Eight  on  his  head  as  usual ! 
However,  he  gets  on  again  pretty  easily  —  that  comes  of 
having  so  many  things  hung  around  the  horse  —  " 

So  she  went  on  talking  to  herself  as  she  watched  the 
horse  walking  leisurely  along  the  road  and  the  Knight 
tumbling  off,  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the  other. 
After  the  fourth  or  fifth  tumble  he  reached  the  turn,  and 
then  she  waved  her  handkerchief  to  him,  and  waited  until 
he  was  out  of  sight. 

''  I  hope  it  encouraged  him,"  she  said,  as  she  turned 
to  run  down  the  hill ;  "  and  now  for  the  last  brook  and 
to  be  a  Queen!  How  grand  it  sounds!"  A  very  few 
steps  brought  her  to  the  edge  of  the  brook.  "  The  Eighth 
Square  at  last !  "  she  cried  as  she  bounded  across,  and 
threw  herself  down  to  rest  on  a  lawn  as  soft  as  moss. 

'^  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  to  get  here !  And  what  is  this 
on  my  head  ?"  she  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  dismay,  as  she 
put  her  hands  up  to  something  very  heavy  that  fitted 
tight  all  round  her  head.  "  How  can  it  have  got  there 
without  my  knowing  it  ?  "  she  said  as  she  lifted  it  off  and 
set  it  on  her  lap  to  see  what  it  could  be.     It  was  a  golden 

crown.  —Lewis  Carroll. 


^  71  e«- 


SWISS   FAMILY   ROBINSON  i 


repel  ^ 

domestic 

commotion 

completely 

caldron 

calabash 

sociability 

ammunition 

extension 

dilemma 

agitation 

caoutchouc 

plumage 

incisions 

sufficient 

fortification 

community 

replenish 

gymnastic 

congratulation 

Fritz  and  I  started  one  morning  with  the  donkey  to 
bring  home  the  sledge  and  the  remainder  of  the  gourd  ves- 
sels. We  had  not  proceeded  far  when  we  came  upon  a 
singular-looking  object  built  around  the  trunk  of  a  tree 
and,  looking  like  a  large  umbrella.  I  saw  at  once  that 
the  formation  consisted  of  a  great  number  of  nests,  built 
by  a  colony  of  birds,  who  appeared  to  be  living  together  in 
perfect  harmony. 

Each  pair  had  its  own  nest ;  in  fact,  this  curious  con- 
struction was  like  a  town  full  of  houses,  all  under  one  roof, 
formed  of  straw  and  moss,  and  sloping  down  from  the 
trunk  of  the  tree  like  the  cover  of  an  umbrella.  The 
branches  of  the  tree  overshadowed  and  partly  concealed 
the  colonial  residence,  enabling  the  little  creatures  to  skip 
in  and  out  of  their  nest  entrances  without  attracting  much 
attention. 

The  number  of  the  feathered  inhabitants  greatly  aston- 
ished me  ;  for  they  took  alarm  at  our  approach,  and  flew 

1  See  note  on  page  260. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


^  72  8«- 

around  us,  chattering  angrily,  and  evidently  ready  to  repel 
with  thousands  of  beaks  any  attack  on  their  community. 

While  observing  with  admiration  this  wonderful  proof 
of  bird  instinct,  I  was  surprised  to  see  a  species  of  small 
parrot  enter  some  of  the  nests,  causing  a  great  commotion 
among  the  colonists.  Fritz,  who  very  much  wished  to 
secure  a  live  parrot,  threw  his  gun  on  the  ground  and 
climbed  the  tree.  On  reaching  the  nearest  branch,  he 
seized  it  with  one  hand,  while  he  thrust  the  other  into  the 
nearest  nest  opening ;  it  was  empty. 

He  tried  another,  with  the  same  result.  The  third 
time  he  was  rewarded  for  his  boldness,  for,  while  feeling 
the  soft  feathers  of  birds  in  the  nest,  a  hard,  seed-cracking 
beak  seized  his  finger,  and  obliged  him  quickly  to  with- 
draw his  hand,  and  cry  out  with  pain  as  he  shook  it  in 
the  air.  But  he  had  not  lost  his  hold  on  the  bough,  and 
thrusting  his  hand  again  into  the  nest,  and  seizing  the 
lovely  biter,  he  brought  him  out  in  spite  of  his  screams. 

Fritz  was  highly  delighted  with  his  prize,  which 
proved  to  be  a  kind  of  sparrow-parrot,  with  beautiful 
green  plumage.  He  placed  it  in  his  pocket  to  take  home 
and  teach  to  talk. 

As  we  continued  our  journey,  our  conversation  natu- 
rally turned  on  the  social  instinct  of  these  birds,  and  the 
skill  they  displayed  in  building.  Fritz  asked  if  there  were 
other  creatures  with  similar  powers,  and  if  it  could  be  the 
result  of  instinct. 


-99  73  9«- 

"  Beavers,"  I  replied, ''  build  a  village,  in  which  a  large 
number  live  together  in  great  sociability.  Bees,  wasps, 
and  ants  also  possess  this  social  instinct." 

"Ah,  yes,  papa,  I  have  watched  the  ants.  It  is  a 
most  amusing  sight." 

"If  the  ants  of  our  native  country  have  interested 
you,"  I  said,  "  what  would  be  your  astonishment  at  those 
of  other  lands  !  They  build  for  their  eggs  a  kind  of  oven, 
or  nest,  from  four  to  six  feet  high,  and  nearly  as  broad, 
with  walls  and  roof  so  hard  that  neither  rain  nor  sun- 
shine can  penetrate  it.  In  it  are  streets,  galleries,  and 
store-cellars,  and  it  is  so  firmly  built  that  with  little 
change  it  might  be  used  as  a  baking-oven  for  man." 

While  conversing  thus,  we  reached  some  trees  quite 
unknown  to  us.  They  were  from  forty  to  sixty  feet  in 
height,  and  from  the  bark,  which  was  cracked  in  some 
places,  issued  balls  of  thick  gum.  It  was  with  difficulty 
that  Fritz  got  one  of  them  off.  He  tried  to  soften  it  with 
his  hand  as  we  proceeded  on  our  journey,  but  found  that 
heat  only  gave  it  the  power  of  extension,  and  that  on 
being  released  it  resumed  its  first  form. 

" Look,  papa !  "  he  exclaimed,  "I  am  sure  the  trees 
we  took  for  wild  figs  are  caoutchouc  trees,  and  that  this 
is  india-rubber." 

"  That  would  be  a  valuable  discovery  to  us,"  I  replied. 

"  Why,  can  any  use  be  made  of  the  rubber  except  to 
remove  pencil  marks  ?  " 


^  74  S«- 

"  Oh,  yes !  the  sap  of  the  caoutchouc  tree  is  used  fo 
very  many  articles  that  will  be  of  great  service  to  us." 

We  now  reached  the  cocoanut  wood,  and  it  occurred  to 
me  to  look  for  one  of  those  most  valuable  trees  called  the 
sago  palm.  I  noticed  presently  a  large  trunk  broken  down 
by  the  wind,  in  which  I  found  sap  of  a  floury  nature  ex- 
actly resembling  European  sago.  A  grove  of  sugar-canes 
lay  in  our  homeward  way,  and  not  to  return  empty- 
handed,  we  gathered  a  large  bundle  of  the  sweet  dainty, 
not  forgetting  to  refresh  ourselves. 

"  Candle-making  to-day ! "  exclaimed  the  boys,  when 
they  rose  next  morning ;  and  they  gave  me  no  rest  till  I 
promised  to  attempt  to  make  candles  of  the  wax-plant 
berries. 

We  filled  a  saucepan  and,  placing  it  over  the  fire,  pro- 
duced in  a  little  time  a  considerable  quantity  of  beautiful 
green  wax.  While  melting  the  berries,  we  prepared  a 
number  of  wicks  from  threads  of  sail-cloth,  dipped  them 
quickly  and  carefully  in  the  wax,  and  then  hung  them  in 
the  air  to  dry.  This  operation  we  repeated  two  or  three 
times,  till  the  wicks  had  taken  sufficient  wax  to  form  can- 
dles. Although  they  were  far  inferior  in  roundness  and 
size  to  those  at  home,  they  threw  around  us  such  a  clear, 
bright  light,  that  we  were  overjoyed  with  the  results. 

There  would  be  no  occasion  now  for  us  to  go  to-  bed 
at  sunset,  for  this  light  would  serve  us  in  our  tree-castle 
apartment  in  a  most  convenient  manner. 


^  75  S«- 

This  success  encouraged  me  to  make  an  attempt  of 
another  description.  Among  the  articles  on  board  the  ship 
we  found  no  churn.  I  therefore  resolved  to  try  a  plan, 
a  description  of  which  I  had  read.  I  chose  the  largest  of 
our  calabash  bottles,  and,  after  filling  it  half  full  of  cream, 
closed  it  tightly.  Then  I  placed  four  stakes  in  the  ground, 
tied  to  them  a  piece  of  sail-cloth  by  the  four  corners,  and 
laid  the  bottle  upon  it.  At  each  side  I  stationed  one  of 
the  boys,  and  desired  them  to  roll  it  backwards  and  for- 
wards, by  alternately  raising  the  cloth,  so  as  to  keep  it  in 
constant  agitation. 

This  performance  proved  capital  fun ;  and  the  boys 
kept  it  up  with  jokes  and  laughter  for  more  than  half  an 
hour,  when  I  opened  the  bottle,  and  found,  to  our  great 
joy,  that  some  really  good  butter  had  been  churned. 

Another  and  much  more  difficult  undertaking  was  on 
my  mind,  which  for  a  long  time  had  seemed  impracticable. 
The  sledge  was  not  only  inconvenient,  but  very  heavy  for 
our  animals  to  draw ;  and  as  we  had  brought  four  cart 
wheels  from  the  wreck,  I  wished  to  construct  a  little  cart. 

I  determined  to  try  what  I  could  do,  and  after  some 
difficulty  succeeded  in  constructing  a  sort  of  carriage  which, 
though  not  elegant  in  appearance,  would,  I  knew,  be  very 
useful. 

In  the  meantime  my  family  at  Tent  House  were  em- 
ployed daily  in  planting  the  European  fruit  trees  which  I 
had  brought  from  the  wreck.     The  vines  w^ere  placed  near 


^  76  8«- 

the  arched  roots,  for  they  required  air  and  a  shady  place ; 
but  the  oranges,  citrons,  mulberries,  olives,  cherries,  and 
other  fruits  containing  kernels  were  planted  on  the  way 
to  the  bridge  over  the  Jackal  River,  where  they  could 
obtain   light  and  warmth. 

I  wished  also  to  make  the  rocks  at  Tent  House  a  kind 
of  fortification,  as  all  our  ammunition  lay  there.  I  re- 
solved, therefore,  to  choose  two  slight  elevations  near  the 
river,  on  which  to  fit  the  two  cannon  from  the  pinnace,  and 
also  to  plant  a  thick  hedge  of  thorns  around  the  whole  spot. 

These  engagements  employed  us  for  six  weeks ;  but 
the  hard  work  had  completely  worn  out  our  clothes,  and 
this  with  other  important  reasons  made  me  consider  it 
necessary  to  return  to  the  wreck  once  more.  I  wished,  if 
possible,  to  bring  away  one  or  two  more  of  the  cannon, 
to  place  on  the  heights  of  our  fortification. 

On  the  first  fine  day  I  set  out  in  the  pinnace  for  the 
wreck  with  the  three  elder  boys.  We  found  everything 
as  we  had  left  it ;  but  the  wind  and  waves  had  loosened 
the  beams  and  damaged  the  powder  casks.  The  sailors' 
chests  were  in  fairly  good  condition,  and  these  we  placed 
on  board  the  pinnace,  as  well  as  a  bdx  containing  a 
quantity  of  ball  and  shot  and  two  small  cannon. 

On  the  second  trip,  we  towed  our  tugboat  behind  the 
pinnace,  quickly  loading  it  with  planks,  doors,  window- 
shutters,  locks  and  bolts,  and  as  many  other  precious 
things  as  we  could  carry. 


-^  77  3<- 


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r^^ 

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1 

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1 

III    -^^-^^ 

Hi ''      ' jgi^ 

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f^^Sfe 

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f '•^1^1 

^^ 

j^j .  jj^^K*^    ''  J^*'-~>'^'^^^^Bflc^^^^S!^^^H^^I 

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»^ '  ^Ki'  ^   ' /^^^^EP^'^-'^^^^^^^i 

^^fes^ 

^s^^f  ^^^^^' 

■■r    -4HP^^ 

A  ROAR   OF  MAJESTIC  THUNDER   RESOUNDED   FROM  THE   ROCKS 


->S  78  3«- 

At  last,  when  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  plundered  the 
wreck  of  every  useful  article,  I  resolved  to  blow  it  up 
with  gunpowder,  in  the  hope  that  the  wind  and  the  waves 
would  cast  on  shore  wood  and  beams,  as  well  as  other 
articles  suitable  for  house  building,  which  were  too  heavy 
for  us  to  bring  away  in  our  boats.  I  had  discovered  a 
large,  heavy  copper  caldron,  which  I  thought  might  be 
saved,  so  I  attached  it  to  two  empty  casks  strong  enough 
to  support  it  when  launched  into  the  sea. 

When  ready  to  start,  I  rolled  a  powder  barrel  into 
the  hold  of  the  ship,  fastened  to  it  carefully  the  end  of  a 
fusee,  and  after  lighting  it,  sprang  into  the  boat  where 
the  boys  were  already  seated,  and  with  outspread  sail 
hastened  toward  the  shore. 

We  had  scarcely  reached  the  bay  when  a  roar  as  of 
majestic  thunder  resounded  from  the  rocks,  and  at  the 
same  moment  a  brilliant  column  of  fire  rising  into  the 
air  announced  that  my  plan  had  succeeded.  A  feeling  of 
sadness  came  over  me ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  last  tie  that 
bound  us  to  our  dear  home  was  broken  ;  and  when  my 
wife  and  Frank,  in  great  alarm,  met  us  as  we  landed,  she 
and  the  boys  seemed  overcome  by  the  same  sad  feeling. 
It  was  as  if  we  had  lost  in  the  ship  an  old  and  dear  friend. 

A  night's  rest  enabled  us  to  shake  off  all  feelings  of 
regret,  especially  when  we  saw  that  the  beach  was  strewn 
with  wooden  planks  and  beams,  while  on  the  sea  near  the 
shore    floated    broken    fragments  of  all  descriptions,  and 


^  79  8«- 

amongst  them  the  copper  caldron,  floating  between  the 
two  casks  to  which  I  had  fastened  it.  Many  days  were 
employed  in  collecting  all  these  useful  articles,  in  piling 
them  on  the  shore,  and  in  covering  the  powder  casks  with 
earth  and  moss  till  we  could  store  them  at  Tent  House. 

My  wife,  in  assisting  us  with  the  wreck,  made  the 
agreeable  discovery  that  two  of  our  ducks  and  one  goose 
had  each  hatched  a  brood,  and  were  leading  their  noisy 
young  families  to  the  water.  This  reminded  us  of  our 
domestic  comforts  at  Falcon's  Nest,  and  we  determined  to 
defer  the  rest  of  our  work  at  Tent  House,  and  to  return 
the  next  day  to  our  shady  summer  home. 

On  our  way  I  observed  that  the  newly  planted  fruit 
trees  were  beginning  to  droop,  and  I  resolved  to  proceed 
to  Cape  Disappointment  the  next  morning  to  cut  bamboos 
to  make  props  for  them.  We  started  in  high  spirits  from 
Falcon's  Nest,  and  I  led  my  household  by  the  newly  dis- 
covered road  to  the  plantations  of  potatoes,  through  which 
Fritz  and  I  had  passed,  until  at  length  we  reached  the 
bird-colony  tree. 

The  waxberry  tree  soon  came  in  sight,  and  the  boys 
eagerly  gathered  berries  enough  to  fill  two  sacks,  which 
were  stowed  away  safely  in  a  spot  which  we  should  pass 
on  our  way  home.  When  we  reached  the  india-rubber 
tree,  I  made  several  incisions  in  the  bark,  from  which  the 
gum  oozed  freely  and  soon  filled  all  our  little  vessels. 
These  also  were  left  for  our  homeward  journey. 


.^  80  B<- 

We  continued  to  advance  till  we  reached  the  cocoa- 
nut  wood,  and,  leaving  it  on  the  left,  presently  arrived 
at  an  open  spot  situated  between  the  grove  of  sugar- 
canes  and  the  bamboo  bushes,  which  lay  at  a  little 
distance  beyond.  Here  we  paused  to  admire  a  beautiful 
landscape  which  lay  stretched  out  before  us.  On  our 
left  was  the  sugar-cane  grove,  to  the  right  the  bamboos, 
and  before  us  a  splendid  avenue  of  palm  trees.  Cape 
Disappointment  could  be  seen  beyond,  stretching  out 
into  the  deep  "sea. 

We  felt  inclined  to  remove  from  Falcon's  Nest,  and 
take  up  our  abode  here ;  but  the  safety  of  our  night 
castle  in  the  great  tree,  and  other  advantages  which  we 
enjoyed  at  Falcon's  Nest,  made  us  decide  to  remain  at 
the  dear  old  home. 

We  determined,  however,  to  make  a  halt  for  our 
midday  meal.  The  animals  were  unharnessed  from  the 
cart  and  set  at  liberty  to  graze  on  the  rich  pasture,  and 
we  produced  from  our  store  of  provisions  enough  for  a 
slight  repast  for  ourselves.  Then  we  set  to  work  to  cut 
down  and  tie  together  bamboo  and  sugar-canes,  in 
bundles  of  a  size  suitable  for  placing  on  the  cart. 

The  boys  cast  longing  eyes  on  the  cocoanuts,  and 
Fritz  and  Jack  attempted  to  climb  the  trees,  but  the 
trunk  was  too  large  and  too  smooth  for  them,  and  slid- 
ing to  the  ground,  they  measured  with  discouraged  eyes 
the  height  of  the  smooth  and  polished  stem. 


In  this  dilemma  I  produced  rough  paxis  of  the  shark's 
skin,  and,  after  fastening  them  to  their  arms  and  knees, 
told  them  to  try  again,  as  the  rough  surface  would  enable 
them  to  rest  and  take  breath  while  clinging  to  the  stem 
with  their  knees. 

Fritz  and  Jack  made  the  attempt,  and  soon  reached 
the  top  of  the  tree.  Each  took  an  axe  from  his  leathern 
girdle  and  struck  so  bravely  at  the  clusters  of  cocoanuts 
that  they  fell  to  the  ground  like  hail.  The  boys  were 
almost  beside  themselves  with  delight,  and,  coming  down, 
received  our  congratulations  that  this  wonderful  gymnas- 
tic performance  had  turned  out  so  well. 

Ernest,  who  had  not  taken  part  in  it,  was  soon  seen 
climbing  a  tree  on  which  no  fruit  grew.  In  response  to 
a  laugh  from  his  brothers,  he  took  his  axe  from  his 
girdle,  and  with  one  or  two  strokes  cut  off  the  large, 
delicately  formed  leaves  from  the  crown.  "  I  have 
thrown  to  you  a  beautiful  palm  cabbage,"  he  cried, 
"twenty  times  more  agreeable  to  eat  than  cocoanuts. 
This  tree  is  the  vegetable  palm." 

"  The  boy  is  right,"  I  exclaimed,  as  I  examined  a  leaf, 
"  and  it  is  very  healthful  food.  It  grows  on  the  top  of 
the  tree." 

As  the  day  was  now  far  advanced,  we  resolved  to 
remain  for  the  night  in  this  charming  spot,  and  to  build 
a  little  cabin  of  branches  and  leaves  to  protect  ourselves 
from  the  cold  wind  and  the  dew.     I  had  brought  with 


^  82  3«- 

me  a  piece  of  sail-cloth,  with  which  we  could  cover  our 
little  hut  and  protect  it  from  the  night  air. 

I  determined  that  after  gathering  dry  grass  and  moss 
for  our  beds,  large  fires  and  torches  should  be  lighted  to 
surround  our  cabin.  These  torches  were  easily  made  of 
dry  sugar-canes,  about  five  or  six  feet  long,  which  gave  a 
brilliant  light,  and  would  continue  burning  for  many  hours. 

We  laid  ourselves  down  on  the  soft  beds  of  grass  and 
moss  which  the  boys  had  collected,  with  loaded  guns  close 
at  hand  in  case  of  danger.  For  a  time  I  kept  awake  to 
replenish  the  fire  and  keep  the  torches  lighted;  but  as 
hour  after  hour  passed,  and  no  wild  beasts  appeared,  I 
gradually  sank  into  a  refreshing  sleep. 

—  JoHANN  David  Wyss. 
A   DAY   IN   JUNEi 

And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 

Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days ; 
Then  Heaven,  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune. 

And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays : 
Whether  we  look,  or  whether  we  listen. 
We  hear  life  murmur,  or  see  it  glisten ; 
Every  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might, 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And,  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light, 

Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers ; 
1  See  note  on  page  260. 


-«  83  B«- 

The  flush  of  life  may  well  be  seen 

Thrilling  back  over  hills  and  valleys ; 
The  cowslip  startles  in  meadows  green, 

The  buttercup  catches  the  sun  in  its  chalice, 
And  there's  never  a  leaf  nor  a  blade  too  mean 

To  be  some  happy  creature's  palace. 
The  little  bird  sits  at  his  door  in  the  sun, 

Atilt  like  a  blossom  among  the  leaves, 
And  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 

With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives ; 
His  mate  feels  the  eggs  beneath  her  wings, 
And  the  heart  in  her  dumb  breast  flutters  and  sings ; 
He  sings  to  the  wide  world,  and  she  to  her  nest,  — 
In  the  nice  ear  of  Nature  which  song  is  the  best  ?    ' 

Now  is  the  high-tide  of  the  year. 

And  whatever  of  life  hath  ebbed  away 
Comes  flooding  back  with  a  rippling  cheer, 
Into  every  bare  inlet  and  creek  and  bay ; 
Now  the  heart  is  so  full  that  a  drop  overfills  it. 
We  are  happy  now  because  God  wills  it ; 
No  matter  how  barren  the  past  may  have  been, 
'Tis  enough  for  us  now  that  the  leaves  are  green ; 
We  sit  in  the  warm  shade  and  feel  right  well 
How  the  sap  creeps  up  and  the  blossoms  swell ; 
We  may  shut  our  eyes,  but  we  cannot  help  knowing 
That  the  skies  are  clear  and  the  grass  is  growing ; 


The  breeze  comes  whispering  in  our  ear, 
That  dandelions  are  blossoming  near, 

That  maize  has  sprouted,  that  streams  are  flowing, 
That  the  river  is  bluer  than  the  sky, 
That  the  robin  is  plastering  his  house  hard  by ; 
And  if  the  breeze  kept  the  good  news  back, 
For  other  couriers  w^e  should  not  lack ; 

We  could  guess  it  all  by  yon  heifer's  lowing,  — 
And  hark  !  how  clear  bold  chanticleer, 
Warmed  with  the  new  w^ine  of  the  year. 

Tells  all,  in  his  lusty  crowing ! 

Joy  comes,  grief  goes,  we  know  not  how ; 
Everything  is  happy  now. 

Everything  is  upward  striving ; 
'Tis  as  easy  now  for  the  heart  to  be  true 
As  for  grass  to  be  green  or  skies  to  be  blue,  — 

'Tis  the  natural  way  of  living : 
Who  knows  whither  the  clouds  have  fled  ? 

In  the  unscarred  heaven  they  leave  no  wake ; 
And  the  eyes  forget  the  tears  they  have  shed, 

The  heart  forgets  its  sorrow  and  ache ; 
The  soul  partakes  of  the  season's  youth. 

And  the  sulphurous  rifts  of  passion  and  woe 
Lie  deep  'neath  a  silence  pure  and  smooth. 

Like  burnt- out  craters  healed  with  snow. 

—  James  Russell  Lowell. 


^  85  8«- 


THE   SUMMER   SHOWER 

Before  the  stout  harvesters  falleth  the  grain, 
As  when  the  strong  storm-wind  is  reaping  the  plain, 
And  loiters  the  boy  in  the  briery  lane ; 
But  yonder  aslant  comes  the  silvery  rain, 
Like  a  long  line  of  spears  brightly  burnished  and  tall. 

Adown  the  white  highway  like  cavalry  fleet, 
It  dashes  the  dust  with  its  numberless  feet. 
Like  a  murmurless  school,  in  their  leafy  retreat. 
The  wild  birds  sit  listening, the  drops  round  them  beat ; 
And  the  boy  crouches  close  to  the  blackberry  wall. 

The  swallows  alone  take  the  storm  on  their  wing, 
And,  taunting  the  tree-sheltered  laborers,  sing ; 
Like  pebbles  the  rain  breaks  the  face  of  the  spring, 
While  a  bubble  darts  up  from  each  widening  ring ; 
And  the  boy  in  dismay  hears  the  loud  shower  fall.. 

But  soon  are  the  harvesters  tossing  their  sheaves. 
The  robin  darts  out  from  his  bower  of  leaves  ; 
The  wren  peereth  forth  from  the  moss-covered  eaves ; 
And  the  rain-spattered  urchin  now  gladly  perceives 
That  the  beautiful  bow  bendeth  over  them  all. 

—  Thomas  Buchanan  Read. 


-«  86  8«- 


THE   CLOUD 


I  bring  fresh  showers  for  the  thirsting  flowers, 

From  the  seas  and  the  streams ; 
I  bear  light  shade  for  the  leaves  when  laid 

In  their  noonday  dreams. 
From  my  wings  are  shaken  the  dews  that  waken 

The  sweet  buds  every  one, 
When  rocked  to  rest  on  their  mother's  breast. 

As  she  dances  about  the  sun. 
I  wield  the  flail  of  the  lashing  hail. 

And  whiten  the  green  plains  under ; 
And  then  again  I  dissolve  it  in  rain. 

And  laugh  as  I  pass  in  thunder. 

I  sift  the  snow  on  the  mountains  below. 

And  their  great  pines  groan  aghast ; 
And  all  the  night  't  is  my  pillow  white. 

While  I  sleep  in  the  arms  of  the  blast. 
Sublime  on  the  towers  of  my  skyey  bowers, 

Lightning,  my  pilot,  sits ; 
In  a  cavern  under  is  fettered  the  thunder. 

It  struggles  and  howls  by  fits. 
Over  earth  and  ocean,  with  gentle  motion, 

This  pilot  is  guiding  me, 


^  87  8«- 

Lured  by  the  love  of  the  genii  that  move 

In  the  depths  of  the  purple  sea  ; 
Over  the  rills,  and  the  crags,  and  the  hills, 

Over  the  lakes  and  the  plains, 
Wherever  he  dream,  under  mountain  or  stream. 

The  spirit  he  loves  remains ; 
And  I  all  the  while  bask  in  heaven's  blue  smile. 

Whilst  he  is  dissolving  in  rain. 

That  orbed  maiden,  with  white  fire  laden. 

Whom  mortals  call  the  moon. 
Glides  glimmering  o'er  my  fleece-like  floor. 

By  the  midnight  breezes  strewn ; 
And  wherever  the  beat  of  her  unseen  feet. 

Which  only  the  angels  hear. 
May  have  broken  the  woof  of  my  tent's  thin  roof. 

The  stars  peep  behind  her  and  peer ; 
And  I  laugh  to  see  them  whirl  and  flee. 

Like  a  swarm  of  golden  bees. 
When  I  widen  the  rent  in  my  wind-built  tent, 

Till  the  calm  rivers,  lakes,  and  seas, 
Like  strips  of  the  sky  fallen  through  me  on  high. 

Are  each  paved  with  the  moon  and  these. 

—  Percy  Bysshe  Shelley. 


-«  88  8«- 


glimpses^ 
circuit 
inquire 
invalid 


BLACK  BEAUTY 1 

favorite 
heather 
disorderly 
exhausted 


amiable 
slackened 
impatiently 
conversation 


Early  in  the   spring,   Lord   W and   part  of  his 

family  went  to  London,  and  took  York  with  them. 
Ginger  and  I  and  some  other  horses  were  left  at  home 
for  use,  and  the  head  groom  was  left  in  charge. 

Lady  Harriet,  who  remained  at  home,  was  a  great 
invalid,  and  never  went  out  in  the  carriage,  and  Lady 
Anne  preferred  riding  on  horseback  with  her  brother  or 
cousins.  She  was  a  perfect  horsewoman,  and  as  gay  and 
gentle  as  she  was  beautiful.  She  chose  me  for  her  horse, 
and  named  me  "  Black  Beauty."  I  enjoyed  these  rides 
very  much  in  the  clear,  cold  air,  sometimes  with  Ginger, 
sometimes  with  Lizzie.  Lizzie  was  a  bright  bay  mare, 
almost  thoroughbred,  and  a  great  favorite  with  the 
gentlemen  on  account  of  her  fine  action  and  lively  spirit ; 
but  Ginger,  who  knew  more  of  her  than  I  did,  told  me 
she  was  rather  nervous. 

There  was  a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Blantyre 
staying  at  the  Hall.  He  always  rode  Lizzie,  and  praised 
her  so  much  that  one  day  Lady  Anne  ordered  the  side- 

1  See  note  on  page  260. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  89  5<- 

saddle  to  be  put  on  her,  and  the  other  saddle  on  me. 
When  we  came  to  the  door,  the  gentleman  seemed  very 
uneasy. 

"  How  is  this  ? "  he  said.  "  Are  you  tired  of  your 
good  Black  Beauty  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all,"  she  replied,  "  but  I  am  amiable 
enough  to  let  you  ride  him  for  once,  while  I  try  your 
charming  Lizzie.  You  must  confess  that  in  size  and 
appearance  she  is  far  more  like  a  lady's  horse  than  my 
own  favorite." 

"  Do  let  me  advise  you  not  to  mount  her,"  he  said. 
"  She  is  a  charming  creature,  but  she  is  too  nervous  for  a 
lady.  I  assure  you  she  is  not  perfectly  safe.  Let  me  beg 
you  to  have  the  saddles  changed." 

"  My  dear  cousin,"  said  Lady  Anne,  laughing,  "  pray 
do  not  trouble  about  me.  I  have  been  a  horsewoman  ever 
since  I  was  a  baby,  and  have  followed  the  hounds  a  great 
many  times,  though  I  know  you  do  not  approve  of  ladies 
hunting.  Still,  that  is  the  fact,  and  I  intend  to  try  this 
Lizzie  that  you  gentlemen  are  so  fond  of,  so  please  help 
me  to  mount." 

There  was  no  more  to  be  said.  He  placed  her  carefully 
on  the  saddle,  gave  the  reins  to  her,  and  then  mounted  me. 
Just  as  we  were  moving  off,  a  footman  came  out  with  a 
slip  of  paper  and  a  message  from  Lady  Harriet,  "Would 
they  ask  this  question  for  her  at  Dr.  Ashley's,  and  bring 
the  answer  ?  " 


The  village  was  a  mile  away,  and  the  doctor's  house 
was  the  last  in  it.  We  went  along  gayly  enough  till  we 
came  to  his  gate.  A  short  drive  led  up  to  the  house, 
between  tall  evergreens.  Blantyre  alighted  at  the  gate, 
and  was  going  to  open  it  for  Lady  Anne,  but  she  said,  "  I 
will  wait  for  you  here,  and  you  can  hang  Black  Beauty's 
rein  on  the  gate." 

He  looked  at  her  doubtfully.  "  I  will  not  be  five 
minutes,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  do  not  hurry.  Lizzie  and  I  will  not  run  away 
from  you." 

He  hung  my  rein  on  one  of  the  iron  spikes,  and  was 
soon  hidden  among  the  trees.  Lizzie  was  standing  quietly 
by  the  side  of  the  road,  a  few  paces  off,  with  her  back  to 
me.  My  young  mistress  was  sitting  easily,  with  a  loose 
rein,  humming  a  little  song.  I  listened  to  my  rider's 
footsteps  until  he  reached  the  house,  and  heard  liim 
knock  at  the  door. 

There  was  a  meadow  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road, 
the  gate  of  which  stood  open.  As  I  looked,  some  cart 
horses  and  several  young  colts  came  trotting  out  in  a  very 
disorderly  manner,  while  a  boy  behind  was  cracking  a 
great  whip.  The  colts  were  wild  and  frolicsome.  One  of 
them  bolted  across  the  road  and  blundered  up  against 
Lizzie.  Whether  it  was  the  stupid  colt  or  the  loud 
cracking  of  the  whip,  or  both  together,  I  cannot  say, 
but  she  gave  a  violent  kick  and  dashed  off  into  a  headlong 


-«  91  S«- 

gallop.  It  was  so  sudden  that  Lady  Anne  was  nearly 
unseated,  but  she  soon  recovered  herself. 

I  gave  a  long,  shrill  neigh  for  help.  Again  and  again 
I  neighed,  pawing  the  ground  impatiently,  and  tossing 
my  head  to  get  the  rein  loose.  I  had  not  long  to  wait. 
Blantyre  came  running  to  the  gate.  He  looked  anxiously 
about,  and  just  caught  sight  of  the  flying  figure  now  far 
away  on  the  road.  In  an  instant  he  sprang  to  the  saddle. 
I  needed  no  whip,  no  spur,  for  I  was  as  eager  as  ray  rider. 
He  saw  it ;  and  giving  me  a  free  rein,  and  leaning  a  little 
forward,  we  dashed  after  them. 

For  about  a  mile  and  a  half  the  road  ran  straight,  then 
bent  to  the  right;  after  this  it  divided  into  two  roads. 
Long  before  we  came  to  the  bend  my  mistress  was  out 
of  sight.  Which  way  had  she  turned?  A  woman  was 
standing  at  her  garden  gate,  shading  her  eyes  with  her 
hand,  and  looking  eagerly  up  the  road.  Scarcely  drawing 
rein,  Lord  Blantyre  shouted,  "  Which  way  ?  "  "To  the 
right !  "  cried  the  woman,  pointing  with  her  hand,  and 
away  we  went  up  the  right-hand  road.  For  a  moment  we 
caught  sight  of  Lady  Anne ;  another  bend,  and  she  was 
hidden  again.  Several  times  we  caught  glimpses  of  the 
flying  rider,  only  to  lose  her  again.  We  scarcely  seemed 
to  gain  ground  upon  her  at  all. 

An  old  road-mender  was  standing  near  a  heap  of 
stones,  his  shovel  dropped  and  his  hands  raised.  As  we 
came  near  he  made  a  sign  to  speak.     Lord  Blantyre  drew 


-«  92  6«- 

the  rein  a  little.  "  To  the  common,  to  the  common,  sir ! 
She  has  turned  off  there." 

I  knew  this  common  very  well.  It  was,  for  the  most 
part,  very  uneven  ground,  covered  with  heather  and  dark- 
green  bushes,  with  here  and  there  a  scrubby  thorn  tree. 
There  were  also  open  spaces  of  fine,  short  grass,  with  ant- 
hills and  mole-turns  everywhere  —  the  worst  place  I  ever 
knew  for  a  headlong  gallop. 

We  had  just  turned  on  to  the  common,  when  we 
caught  sight  again  of  the  green  habit  flying  on  before 
us.  My  mistress's  hat  w^as  gone,  and  her  long  brown  hair 
was  streaming  behind  her.  Her  head  and  body  were 
tlirowm  back,  as  if  she  were  pulling  with  all  her  remain- 
ing strength,  and  as  if  that  strength  were  nearly  ex- 
hausted. It  was  clear  that  the  roughness  of  the  ground 
had  very  much  lessened  Lizzie's  speed,  and  there  seemed 
a  chance  that  we  might  overtake  her. 

While  we  were  on  the  highroad.  Lord  Blantyre  had 
given  me  my  head ;  .but  now,  with  a  light  hand  and  a 
practised  eye,  he  guided  me  over  the  ground  in  such 
a  masterly  manner  that  my  pace  was  scarcely  slackened, 
and  we  gained  on  them  every  moment. 

About  halfway  across  the  common  a  wide  dike  had 
recently  been  cut  and  the  earth  from  the  cutting  cast  up 
roughly  on  the  other  side.  Surely  this  would  stop  them  ! 
But  no ;  scarcely  pausing,  Lizzie  took  the  leap,  stumbled 
among  the  rough  clods,  and  fell. 


-«  93  e«- 

Lord  Blantyre  groaned,  "  Now,  Black  Beauty,  do 
your  best !  "  He  gave  me  a  steady  rein.  I  gathered  my- 
self together,  and  with  one  determined  leap  cleared  both 
dike  and  bank. 

Motionless  among  the  heather  lay  my  poor  young 
mistress.  Lord  Blantyre  kneeled  down  and  called  her 
name ;  there  was  no  sound.  Gently  he  turned  her  face 
upward ;  it  was  ghastly  white  and  the  eyes  were  closed. 

"Anne,  Anne,  do  speak!"  There  was  no  answer. 
Then  he  stood  up  and  looked  wildly  round  him  for  help. 
At  no  great  distance  there  were  two  men  cutting  turf, 
who,  seeing  Lizzie  running  wild  without  a  rider,  had  left 
their  work  to  catch  her. 

Lord  Blantyre' s  call  soon  brought  them  to  the  spot. 
The  foremost  man  seemed  much  troubled  at  the  sight  and 
asked  what  he  could  do. 

'^Canyon  ride?" 

"  Well,  sir,  I  am  not  much  of  a  horseman,  but  I'd  risk 
my  neck  for  Lady  Anne ;  she  was  very  kind  to  my  wife 
this  winter." 

"  Then  mount  this  horse,  my  friend,  —  your  neck  will 
be  quite  safe,  —  and  ride  to  the  Doctor's  and  ask  him  to 
come  instantly ;  then  on  to  the  Hall ;  tell  them  all  you 
know,  and  bid  them  send  me  the  carriage  with  Lady 
Anne's  maid.     I  shall  stay  here." 

"  All  right,  sir,  I'll  do  my  best ;  and  I  hope  the  dear 
young  lady  may  open  her  eyes  soon." 


-«  94  S«- 

Then  seeing  the  other  man  he  called  out,  "  Here,  Joe, 
run  for  some  water." 

He  then  somehow  scrambled  into  the  saddle,  and  with 
a  "  gee  up  "  and  a  clap  on  my  sides  with  both  his  legs,  he 
started  on  his  journey,  making  a  little  circuit  to  avoid  the 
dike.  He  had  no  whip,  which  seemed  to  trouble  him ; 
but  my  pace  soon  cured  that  difficulty,  and  he  found  the 
best  thing  he  could  do  was  to  stick  to  the  saddle  and  hold 
me  in,  which  he  did  manfully.  I  shook  him  as  little  as  I 
could  help,  but  once  or  twice  on  the  rough  ground  he 
called  out,  "  Steady !  Whoa  !  Steady  !  "  On  the  highroad 
we  were  all  right ;  and  at  the  Doctor's  and  the  Hall  he 
did  his  errand  like  a  good  man  and  true.  They  asked 
him  to  rest  a  minute.  "  No,  no,  "  he  said  ;  "  I'll  be  back 
to  them  again  by  a  short  cut  through  the  fields,  and  be 
there  before  the  carriage." 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  hurry  and  excitement  after 
the  news  became  known.  I  was  just  turned  into  my  box  ; 
the  saddle  and  bridle  were  taken  off,  and  a  cloth  thrown 
over  me. 

Ginger  was  saddled  and  sent  off  in  great  haste  for 
Lord  George,  and  I  soon  heard  the  carriage  roll  out  of  the 
yard. 

It  seemed  a  long  time  before  Ginger  came  back,  and 
before  we  were  left  alone ;  then  she  told  me  all  that  she 
had  seen. 

"  I  can't  tell  much,"  she  said.     "  We  galloped  nearly 


^  95  6«- 

all  the  way,  and  got  there  just  as  the  Doctor  rode  up. 
There  was  a  woman  sitting  on  the  ground  with  the  lady's 
head  in  her  lap.  The  Doctor  poured  something  into  her 
mouth,  but  all  that  I  heard  was,  '  She  is  not  dead.'  Then 
I  was  led  off  by  a  man  to  a  little  distance.  After  a  while 
she  was  taken  to  the  carriage,  and  we  came  home 
together.  I  heard  my  master  say  to  a  gentleman  who 
stopped  him  to  inquire,  that  he  hoped  no  bones  were 
broken,  but  that  she  had  not  spoken  yet." 

Two  days  after  the  accident.  Lord  Blantyre  paid  me  a 
visit ;  he  patted  me  and  praised  me  very  much ;  he  told 
Lord  George  that  he  was  sure  I  knew  of  Lady  Anne's 
danger  as  well  as  he  did.  "  I  could  not  have  held  him  in 
if  I  would,"  said  he.  "  Lady  Anne  ought  never  to  ride 
any  other  horse." 

I  found  by  their  conversation  that  my  young  mistress 
was  now  out  of  danger,  and  would  soon  be  able  to  ride 
again.     This  was  good  news  to  me,  and  I  looked  forward 

to  a  happy  life.  —Anna  Sewell. 

Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I  pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies. 

Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand 

Little  flower  —  but  if  I  could  understand 

What  you  are,  root  and  all,  and  all  in  all, 

I  should  know  what  God  and  man  is. 

—  Alfred  Tennyson. 


-«  96  S«- 


DON   QUIXOTE   AND   THE   LION^ 


league^ 

mien 

scabbard 

experience 

absorbed 

temerity 

invisible 

compulsion 

stirrup 

demeanor 

accountable 

intrepidity 

perceive 

arrogant 

fortitude 

apparition 

compact 

enterprise 

Rocinante 

lamentations 

Absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  Don  Quixote  had  not  pro- 
ceeded more  than  half  a  league  from  the  river  when,  rais- 
ing his  head,  he  perceived  a  cart  covered  v^ith  royal  flags 
coming  along  the  road  they  were  travelling,  and  per- 
suaded that  this  must  be  some  new  adventure,  he  called 
aloud  to  Sancho  to  bring  him  his  helmet. 

As  Sancho  approached,  Don  Quixote  exclaimed  to  him, 
''  Give  me  that  helmet,  my  friend,  for  either  I  know  little 
of  adventures  or  what  I  observe  yonder  is  one  that  will, 
and  does,  call  on  me  to  arm  myself." 

Sancho,  on  hearing  this,  looked  in  all  directions,  but 
could  perceive  nothing,  except  a  cart  coming  toward  them 
with  two  or  three  small  flags,  which  led  him  to  conclude 
it  must  be  carrying  treasure  of  the  king's,  and  he  said  so 
to  Don  Quixote. 

He,  however,  would  not  believe  Sancho,  being  always 
persuaded  and  convinced  that  all  that  happened  to  himself 

1  See  note  on  page  260. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-59  97  S«- 

must  be  adventures  and  still  more  adventures,  so  he 
replied,  "  He  who  is  prepared  has  his  battle  half  fought ; 
nothing  is  lost  by  my  preparing  myself,  for  I  know  by 
experience  that  I  have  enemies,  visible  and  invisible,  and 
I  know  not  when,  or  where,  or  at  what  moment,  or  in 
what  shapes,  they  will  attack  me." 

Don  Quixote  put  on  his  helmet,  and  settling  himself 
firmly  in  his  stirrups,  easing  his  sword  in  the  scabbard, 
and  grasping  his  lance,  cried  out,  "  Now,  come  who  will, 
here  am  I,  ready  to  try  conclusions  with  any  one." 

By  this  time  th-e  cart  with  the  flags  had  come  up,  un- 
attended by  any  one  except  the  carter  on  a  mule,  and  a 
man  sitting  before  the  door  of  the  cart.  Don  Quixote 
planted  himself  before  it,  and  said:  "Whither  are  you 
going,  brothers?  What  cart  is  this?  What  have  you 
got  in  it  ?     What  flags  are  those  ?  '.' 

To  this  the  carter  replied,  "  The  cart  is  mine;  what  is 
in  it  is  a  pair  of  fine  caged  lions,  which  the  governor  of 
Oran  is  sending  to  court  as  a  present  to  his  Majesty,  and 
the  flags  are  our  lord  the  king's,  to  show  that  this  is  his 
property." 

"  Are  the  lions  large?"  asked  Don  Quixote. 

"  So  large,"  replied  the  man  who  sat  at  the  door  of 
the  cart,  "  that  larger  have  never  crossed  from  Africa  to 
Spain.  I  am  the  keeper,  and  I  have  brought  over  others, 
but  never  any  like  these.  They  are  hungry  now,  for  they 
have  eaten  nothing  to-day,  so  let  your  worship  stand  aside, 


-«  98  S«- 

for  we  must  make  haste  to  the  place  where  we  are  to  feed 
them." 

Hereon,  smiling  slightly,  Don  Quixote  exclaimed,  "  Get 
down,  my  good  fellow,  and  as  you  are  the  keeper,  open  the 
cages  and  turn  me  out  those  beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of 
this  plain  I  will  let  them  know  who  Don  Quixote  of  La 
Mancha  is,  in  spite  and  in  the  teeth  of  the  enchanters 
who  sent  them  to  me." 

At  this  instant  Sancho  came  up,  saying  to  the  keeper 
of  the  lions,  "  Senor,  do  something  to  keep  my  master 
Don  Quixote,  from  tackling  those  lions;  for  if  he  does, 
they'll  tear  us  all  to  pieces  here." 

"  Sancho,"  said  Don  Quixote,  "  you  leave  this  business 
to  me,"  and  then  turning  to  the  keeper  he  exclaimed :  — 

"  By  all  that's  good.  Sir  Keeper,  if  you  don't  open  the 
cages  this  very  instant,  I'll  pin  you  to  the  cart  with  this 
lance." 

The  carter,  seeing  the  determination  of  this  apparition 
in  armor,  said  to  him,  "Please  your  worship,  let  me  un- 
yoke the  mules,  and  place  myself  in  safety  along  with 
them  before  the  lions  are  turned  out,  for  if  they  kill  the 
mules,  I  am  ruined  for  life.  All  I  possess  is  this  cart  and 
mules." 

"0  man  of  little  faith,"  replied  Don  Quixote,  "get 
down  and  unyoke ;  you  will  soon  see  that  you  are  exert- 
ing yourself  for  nothing,  and  that  you  might  have  spared 
yourself  the  trouble." 


-^  99  e«- 

The  carter  got  down,  and  with  all  speed  unyoked  the 
mules,  and  the  keeper  called  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
"  I  call  all  here  to  witness  that  against  my  will  and  under 
compulsion  I  open  the  cages  and  let  the  lions  loose,  and 
that  I  warn  this  gentleman  that  he  will  be  accountable 
for  all  the  harm  and  mischief  which  these  beasts  may  do, 
and  for  my  salary  and  dues  as  well."  Then  speaking  to 
the  carter  and  Sancho  he  said,  "  You,  gentlemen,  place 
yourselves  in  safety  before  I  open,  for  I  know  they  will 
do  me  no  harm." 

Sancho,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  entreated  his  master 
to  give  up  an  enterprise  compared  with  which  all  the 
feats  he  had  attempted  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life 
were  cakes  and  fancy  bread.  "  Look  ye,  senor,"  said 
Sancho,  "  there's  no  enchantment  here,  not  anything  of 
the  sort,  for  betw^een  the  bars  and  chinks  of  the  cage  I 
have  seen  the  paw  of  a  real  lion,  and  judging  by  that 
I  reckon  that  such  a  paw  could  belong  to  a  lion  much 
bigger  than  a  mountain." 

"  Fear,  at  any  rate,"  replied  Don  Quixote,  "  will  make 
him  look  bigger  to  thee  than  half  the  world.  Retire, 
Sancho,  and  leave  me,  and  if  I  die  here  thou  knowest  our 
old  compact :  thou  w^ilt  repair  to  Dulcinea.  I  say  no  more." 
And  renewing  his  commands  to  the  keeper,  and  repeating 
his  threats,  he  gave  warning  to  Sancho  to  spur  his  Dapple, 
and  the  carter  to  drive  his  mules,  and  both  strove  to  get 
away  from  the  cart  before  the  lions  broke  loose. 


^  100  8<- 

Sancho  was  weeping  over  his  master's  death,  for  this 
time  he  firmly  believed  it  was  in  store  for  him  from  the 
claws  of  the  lions ;  but  with  all  his  tears  and  lamentations 
he  did  not  forget  to  thrash  Dapple  so  as  to  put  a  good 
space  between  himself  and  the  cart. 

The  keeper  once  more  entreated  and  warned  Don 
Quixote  as  he  had  entreated  and  warned  him  before ;  but 
he  replied  that  he  heard  him,  and  that  he  need  not  trouble 
himself  with  any  further  warnings  or  entreaties,  as  they 
would  be  fruitless,  and  bade  him  make  haste. 

During  the  delay  that  occurred  while  the  keeper  was 
opening  the  cage,  Don  Quixote  was  considering  whether 
it  would  not  be  well  to  do  battle  on  foot  instead  of  on 
horseback,  and  finally  resolved  to  fight  on  foot,  fearing 
that  Rocinante  might  take  fright  at  the  sight  of  the 
lions ;  he  therefore  sprang  off  his  horse,  flung  his  lance 
aside,  braced  his  buckler  on  his  arm,  and  drawing  his 
sword,  advanced  slowly  with  marvellous  intrepidity  and 
resolute  courage,  to  plant  himself  in  front  of  the  cart, 
commending  himself  with  all  his  heart,  first  to  God  and 
then  to  his  lady  Dulcinea. 

The  keeper,  seeing  that  Don  Quixote  had  taken  up  his 
position,  and  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  avoid  let- 
ting out  the  lions  without  incurring  the  enmity  of  the 
fiery  and  daring  knight,  flung  open  the  doors  of  the  cage, 
containing,  as  has  been  said,  the  lion,  which  was  now  seen 
to  be  of  enormous  size,  and  grim  and  hideous  mien. 


^  101  e«- 


DON  QUIXOTE   ENCOUNTERS  THE  LION 


-^  102  8<- 

The  first  thing  the  lion  did  was  to  turn  round  in  the 
cage  in  which  he  lay,  and  protrude  his  claws  and  stretch 
himself  thoroughly;  he  next  opened  his  mouth  and 
yawned  very  leisurely ;  having  done  this  he  put  his  head 
out  of  the  cage  and  looked  all  round  with  eyes  like 
glowing  coals,  a  spectacle  and  demeanor  to  strike  terror 
into  temerity  itself.  Don  Quixote  merely  observed  him 
steadily,  longing  for  him  to  leap  from  the  cart  and  come 
to  close  quarters  with  him,  w^hen  he  hoped  to  hew  him  to 
pieces. 

So  far  did  his  unparalleled  madness  go ;  but  the  noble 
lion,  more  courteous  than  arrogant,  not  troubling  himself 
about  silly  bravado,  after  having  looked  all  around,  as  has 
been  said,  turned  about  and  very  coolly  and  tranquilly  lay 
down  again  in  the  cage.  Seeing  this,  Don  Quixote  ordered 
the  keeper  to  take  a  stick  to  him  and  provoke  him  to  make 
him  come  out. 

"  That  I  will  not,"  said  the  keeper ;  "  for  if  I  anger 
him,  the  first  he'll  tear  in  pieces  will  be  myself.  Be  satis- 
fied, Sir  Knight,  with  what  you  have  done,  which  leaves 
nothing  more  to  be  said  on  the  score  of  courage,  and  do 
not  seek  to  tempt  fortune  a  second  time.  The  lion  has 
the  door  open  ;  he  is  free  to  come  out  or  not  to  come  out ; 
but  as  he  has  not  come  out  so  far,  he  will  not  come  out  to- 
day. The  greatness  of  your  worship's  courage  has  been 
fully  manifested  already;  no  brave  champion,  so  it  strikes 
me,  is  bound  to  do  more  than  challenge  his  enemy  and 


-^  103  S«- 

wait  for  him  on  the  field ;  if  his  adversary  does  not  come, 
on  him  lies  the  disgrace,  and  he  who  waits  for  him  carries 
off  the  crown  of  victory." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Don  Quixote ;  "  close  the  door, 
my  friend,  and  let  me  have,  in  the  best  form  thou  canst, 
what  thou  hast  seen  me  do,  by  way  of  certificate ;  to  wit, 
that  thou  didst  open  the  door  of  the  lion's  cage,  that  I 
waited  for  him,  and  that  he  did  not  come  out.  I  am  not 
bound  to  do  more  ;  enchantments  avaunt,  and  God  uphold 
the  right,  the  truth,  and  true  chivalry !  Close  the  door, 
as  I  bade  thee,  while  I  make  signals  to  the  fugitives  that 
have  left  us,  that  they  may  learn  this  exploit  from  thy 
lips." 

The  keeper  obeyed,  and  Don  Quixote,  fixing  his  kerchief 
on  the  point  of  his  lance,  proceeded  to  recall  the  others, 
who  still  continued  to  fly,  looking  back  at  every  step. 
Sancho,  however,  happening  to  observe  the  signal,  ex- 
claimed, "  May  I  die  if  my  master  has  not  overcome  the 
wild  beasts,  for  he  is  calling  to  us." 

They  stopped,  and  perceived  that  it  was  Don  Quixote 
who  was  making  signals,  and  shaking  off  their  fears  to 
some  extent,  they  approached  slowly  until  they  were  near 
enough  to  hear  distinctly  Don  Quixote's  voice  calling  to 
them.  They  returned  at  length  to  the  cart,  and  as  they 
came  up,  Don  Quixote  said  to  the  carter,  "  Put  your  mules 
to  the  cart  once  more,  brother,  and  continue  your  journey ; 
and  do  thou,  Sancho,  give  him  two  gold  crowns  for  him- 


■^  104  9«- 

self  and  the  keeper,  to  compensate  for  the  delay  they  have 
incurred  through  me." 

"  That  will  I  give  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Sancho ; 
"  but  what  has  become  of  the  lions  ?  Are  they  dead  or 
alive  ?  " 

The  keeper  then  in  full  detail,  and  bit  by  bit,  described 
the  end  of  the  contest,  exalting  to  the  best  of  his  power 
and  ability  the  valor  of  Don  Quixote,  at  the  sight  of  whom 
the  lion  quailed,  and  would  not  and  dared  not  come  out  of 
the  cage,  although  he  had  held  the  door  open  ever  so  long ; 
and  showing  how^,  in  consequence  of  his  having  represented 
to  the  knight  that  it  was  tempting  God  to  provoke  the 
lion  in  order  to  force  him  out,  which  he  wished  to  have 
done,  he  very  reluctantly,  and  altogether  against  his  will, 
had  allowed  the  door  to  be  closed. 

"  What  dost  thou  think  of  this,  Sancho  ? "  said  Don 
Quixote.  "  Are  there  any  enchantments  that  can  prevail 
against  true  valor?  The  enchanters  may  be  able  to  rob 
me  of  good  fortune,  but  of  fortitude  and  courage  they 
cannot." 

Sancho  paid  the  crowns,  the  keeper  kissed  Don  Quixote's 
hands  for  the  bounty  bestowed  on  him,  and  promised  to 
give  an  account  of  the  valiant  exploit  to  the  king  himself, 
as  soon  as  he  saw  him  at  court.  The  cart  went  its  way, 
and  Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  went  theirs. 

—  Miguel  dk  Cervantes. 


■^  105  8«- 


DON    QUIXOTE,   KNIGHT-ERRANT 


reals  ^ 

draught 

virtuous 

imminent 

rabble 

fortress 

destined 

transform 

ruffian 

valorous 

immured 

vanquished 

frustrate 

scoundrel 

distinction 

contemplated 

Don  Quixote  pursued  his  journey  with  satisfaction  and 
complacency,  fancying  himself  the  most  valorous  knight- 
errant  in  the  world  because  of  his  late  victory.  He,  how- 
ever, met  with  no  further  adventure  that  day,  and  at  the 
approach  of  evening  he  returned  to  spend  the  night  in  the 
grove  where  he  had  vanquished  the  Knight  of  the  Mirrors. 
Don  Quixote  settled  himself  at  the  foot  of  an  elm  and 
Sancho  at  the  foot  of  a  beech,  for  trees  of  this  kind  and 
others  like  them  have  feet  but  no  hands.  With  the 
appearance  of  daylight  they  pursued  their  journey,  and 
they  had  not  been  long  on  the  way  when  they  came  to 
the  banks  of  a  river.  The  sight  of  it  was  a  great  delight 
to  Don  Quixote  as  he  contemplated  the  clearness  of  its 
stream,  the  gentleness  of  its  current,  and  the  abundance 
of  its  crystal  waters. 

The  Don  and  his  squire  had  just  begun  to  follow  down 
the  stream  when  they  discovered  a  small  boat,  without 
oars  or  any  other  gear,  that  lay  at  the  water's  edge,  tied 
to  the  trunk  of  a  tree  growing  on  the  bank.    Don  Quixote 

1  See  note  on  page  260. 

2  j'intj  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  106  8«- 

looked  all  round,  and  seeing  nobody,  at  once  dismounted 
from  Rocinante  and  bade  Sancho  get  down  from  Dapple 
and  tie  both  beasts  securely  to  the  trunk  of  a  poplar  or 
willow  that  stood  near  by.  Sancho  asked  him  the  reason 
of  this  sudden  dismounting  and  tying. 

Don  Quixote  made  answer :  "  Thou  must  know, 
Sancho,  that  this  bark  here  is  plainly  calling  and  invit- 
ing me  to  enter  it,  and  in  it  to  go  to  give  aid  to  some 
knight  or  other  person  of  distinction  in  need  of  it,  who  is 
no  doubt  in  some  sore  strait ;  for  that  is  the  way  of  the 
books  of  chivalry  and  of  the  enchanters  who  figure  and 
speak  in  them.  When  a  knight  is  involved  in  some  diffi- 
culty from  which  he  cannot. be  delivered  save  from  the 
liand  of  another  knight,  though  they  may  be  at  a  distance 
of  two  or  three  thousand  leagues  one  from  the  other, 
they  either  take  him  up  on  a  cloud,  or  they  provide  a 
bark  for  him  to  get  into,  and  in  less  than  a  twinkling 
of  an  eye  they  carry  him  where  they  will  and  where  his 
help  is  required ;  and  so,  Sancho,  this  bark  is  placed  here 
for  the  same  purpose ;  tie  Dapple  and  Rocinante  together 
and  let  us  proceed." 

"  As  that's  the  case,"  said  Sancho,  "  there's  nothing 
for  it  but  to  obey;  but  for  all  that  I  must  warn  your 
worship  that  in  my  opinion  this  bark  is  no  enchanted 
one,  but  belongs  to  some  of  the  fishermen  of  the  river." 

As  Sancho  said  this  he  tied  the  beasts,  leaving  them 
to  the  care  and  protection  of  the  enchanters. 


-^  107  8^ 

"  Now  they  are  tied,"  said  Sancho,  "  what  are  we  to 
do  next  ?  " 

"  What  ?  "  said  Don  Quixote,  "  weigh  anchor  ;  I  mean 
embark  and  cut  the  moorings  by  which  the  bark  is  held ; " 
and  jumping  into  it,  followed  by  Sancho,  he  cut  the  rope, 
and  the  bark  began  to  drift  slowly  from  the  bank. 

When  Sancho  saw  himself  about  two  yards  out  in  the 
river,  he  began  to  tremble  and  give  himself  up  for  lost ; 
but  nothing  distressed  him  more  than  hearing  Dapple 
bray  and  seeing  Rocinante  struggling  to  get  loose,  and 
said  he  to  his  master :  "  Dapple  is  braying  in  grief  at 
our  leaving  him,  and  Rocinante  is  trying  to  escape  and 
plunge  in  after  us.  0  dear  friends,  peace  be  with  you, 
and  may  this  madness  that  is  taking  us  away  from  you 
turn  into  sober  sense  and  bring  us  back  to  you." 

They  now  came  in  sight  of  some  water-mills,  and  the 
instant  Don  Quixote  saw  them  he  cried  out  to  Sancho : 
"  Seest  thou  there,  my  friend  ?  There  stands  the  city, 
castle,  or  fortress,  where  there  is,  no  doubt,  some  knight 
or  ill-used  queen  in  aid  of  whom  I  am  brought  hither." 

"  What  is  your  worship  talking  about,  senor  ? "  said 
Sancho ;  "  don't  you  see  that  those  are  mills  to  grind 
corn  ?  " 

"  Hold  thy  peace,  Sancho,"  said  Don  Quixote  ;  "  though 
they  look  like  mills  they  are  not  so ;  I  have  already  told 
thee  that  enchantments  transform  things  and  change  their 
proper  shapes." 


-^  108  3«- 

By  this  time  the  boat,  having  reached  the  middle  of 
the  stream,  began  to  move  less  slowly.  The  millers, 
when  they  saw  the  boat  coming  down  the  river,  and  on 
the  point  of  being  sucked  in  by  the  draft  of  the  wheels, 
ran  out  in  haste,  several  of  them  with  long  poles  to  stop 
it.  They  raised  loud  shouts,  crying,  "  Are  you  mad  ?  Dp 
you  want  to  drown  yourselves,  or  dash  yourselves  to  pieces 
among  these  wheels  ?  " 

"  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  Sancho,"  said  Don  Quixote  at 
this,  "  that  we  had  reached  the  place  where  I  am  to  show 
what  the  might  of  my  arm  can  do?  See  what  ruffians 
and  villains  come  out  against  me ;  see  what  monsters 
oppose  me ;  see  what  hideous  countenances  •  come  to 
frighten  me  !     You  shall  see,  scoundrels  !  " 

Then  standing  up  in  the  boat  he  began  in  a  loud  voice 
to  hurl  threats  at  the  millers,  exclaiming,  "  Ill-conditioned 
and  worse-counselled  rabble,  restore  to  liberty  and  freedom 
the  person  ye  hold  imprisoned  in  this  your  fortress,  for  I 
am  Don  Quixote  of  La  Mancha,  for  whom  it  is  reserved 
to  give  a  happy  issue  to  this  adventure." 

So  saying  he  drew  his  sword  and  began  making  passes 
in  the  air  at  the  millers,  who,  hearing  him  but  not  under- 
standing his  nonsense,  strove  to  stop  the  boat,  which 
was  now  getting  into  the  rushing  channel  of  the  wheels. 
Sancho  fell  on  his  knees,  devoutly  appealing  to  Heaven  to 
deliver  him  from  such  imminent  peril,  which  it  did  by 
the  activity  and  quickness  of   the  millers,  who,  pushing 


^  109  B«- 

against  the  boat  with  their  poles,  stopped  it;  not,  how- 
ever, without  upsetting  it  and  throwing  Don  Quixote  and 
Sancho  into  the  water. 

Lucky  it  was  for  Don  Quixote  that  he  could  swim  like 
a  goose,  though  the  weight  of  his  armor  carried  him  twice 
to  the  bottom.  The  millers  plunged  in  and  hoisted  them 
both  out,  and  more  drenched  than  thirsty,  they  were 
landed.  The  fishermen,  the  owners  of  the  boat,  which 
the  mill-wheels  had  dashed  to  pieces,  now  came  up,  and 
seeing  it  smashed  they  proceeded  to  demand  payment  for 
it  from  Don  Quixote ;  but  he  with  great  calmness  told  the 
millers  and  fishermen  that  he  would  pay  for  the  bark  most 
cheerfully,  on  condition  that  they  delivered  up  to  him,  free 
and  unhurt,  the  person  or  persons  that  were  imprisoned  in 
that  castle  of  theirs. 

"What  persons  or  what  castle  art  thou  talking  of, 
madman  ?  "  said  one  of  the  millers ;  "  art  thou  for  carry- 
ing off  the  people  who  come  to  grind  corn  in  these  mills  ?" 

"  That's  enough,"  said  Don  Quixote  to  himself ;  "  it 
would  be  preaching  in  the  desert  to  attempt  by  entreaties 
to  induce  this  rabble  to  do  any  virtuous  action.  In  this 
adventure  two  mighty  enchanters  must  have  encountered 
one  another,  and  one  frustrates  what  the  other  attempts. 
One  provided  the  bark  for  me,  and  the  other  upset  me. 
I  can  do  no  more."  And  then  turning  toward  the  mills 
he  said  aloud,  "  Friends,  whoever  ye  be  that  are  immured 
in   that  prison,  forgive    me  that    I    cannot   deliver   you 


^  110  3<- 

from  your  misery;  this  adventure  is  doubtless  reserved 
and  destined  for  some  other  knight." 

So  saying  he  settled  with  the  fishermen,  and  paid  fifty 
reals  for  the  boat,  which  Sancho  handed  to  them  very 
much  against  his  will,  saying,  "  With  a  couple  more  bark 
businesses  like  this  we  shall  have  sunk  our  whole  capital." 

The  fishermen  and  the  millers  stood  staring  in  amaze- 
ment at  the  two  figures,  so  very  different  to  all  appearance 
from  ordinary  men,  and  were  wholly  unable  to  make  out 
the  drift  of  the  observations  and  questions  Don  Quixote 
addressed  to  them  ;  and  coming  to  the  conclusion  that  they 
were  madmen,  they  left  them  and  betook  themselves,  the 
millers  to  their  mills,  and  the  fishermen  to  their  huts. 
Don  Quixote  and  Sancho  returned  to  their  beasts,  and 
this  was  the  end  of  the  adventure  of  the  enchanted  bark. 

—  Miguel  de  Cervantes. 

THE   OWL 

In  the  hollow  tree  in  the  gray  old  tower. 

The  spectral  owl  doth  dwell ; 
Dull,  hated,  despised  in  the  sunshine  hour, 

But  at  dusk,  —  he's  abroad  and  well : 
Not  a  bird  of  the  forest  e'er  mates  with  him ; 

All  mock  him  outright  by  day ; 
But  at  night,  when  the  woods  grow  still  and  dim, 

The  boldest  will  shrink  away ; 


^  111  8«- 

0,  when  the  night  falls,  and  roosts  the  fowl, 
Then,  then  is  the  reign  of  the  horned  owl ! 

And  the  owl  hath  a  bride  who  is  fond  and  bold, 

And  loveth  the  wood's  deep  gloom ; 
And  with  eyes  like  the  shine  of  the  moonshine  cold 

She  awaiteth  her  ghastly  groom  ! 
Not  a  feather  she  moves,  not  a  carol  she  sings, 

As  she  waits  in  her  tree  so  still ; 
But  when  her  heart  heareth  his  flapping  wings. 

She  hoots  out  her  welcome  shrill ! 

0,  when  the  moon  shines,  and  the  dogs  do  howl, 
Then,  then  is  the  cry  of  the  horned  owl ! 

Mourn  not  for  the  owl  nor  his  gloomy  plight ! 

The  owl  hath  his  share  of  good ; 
If  a  prisoner  he  be  in  the  broad  daylight. 

He  is  lord  in  the  dark  green  wood ! 
Nor  lonely  the  bird,  nor  his  ghastly  mate ; 

They  are  each  unto  each  a  pride  — 
Thrice  fonder,  perhaps,  since  a  strange,  dark  fate 

Hath  rent  them  from  all  beside ! 

So  when  the  night  falls,  and  dogs  do  howl, 
Sing,  Ho !  for  the  reign  of  the  horned  owl ! 
We  know  not  alway  who  are  kings  by  day. 

But  the  king  of  the  night  is  the  bold  brown  owl. 

—  Babry  Cornwall. 


-^  112  ^ 

' 

ANSELMO  1 

convey  ^ 

haggard 

desperate 

dungeon 

beseech 

daunted 

captivity 

populated 

recesses 

solitary 

conclusion 

reconciled 

domino 

carnival 

diligently 

triumphant 

desolate 

advancing 

frequently 

proclaimed 

There  was  once  a  young  Italian  noble,  whose  elder 
brother  loved  him  much ;  he  had  moreover  saved  his  life, 
and  had  reconciled  him  to  his  father,  who  had  become 
greatly  offended  with  him. 

As  might  be  expected,  the  youth  returned  this  affec- 
tion, and  after  the  death  of  the  father  these  brothers 
lived  together,  the  younger  obeying  the  elder,  and  behav- 
ing to  him  in  all  respects  like  a  son. 

Once,  on  a  certain  day,  however,  a  long  separation 
came  between  them ;  for  the  elder  went  out  in  the  morning 
as  usual,  but  he  never  returned  again  to  his  house.  His 
young  brother  was  first  surprised,  then  alarmed.  He 
proclaimed  his  loss,  he  searched  the  country,  caused  the 
waters  to  be  searched,  and  sought  in  all  the  recesses  of 
that  old  Italian  city  ;  but  it  was  of  no  avail ;  his  brother 
was  gone,  and  none  could  tell  him  whither. 

Anselrao  heard  nothing  from  his  brother  for  more 
than  six  months.     Then,  one  night,  as  he  was  knocking  at 

1  See  note  on  page  261. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  113  Sk- 
ills own  door  for  admittance,  a  figure  in  a  domino  came 
up  to  him  and  put  a  note  into  his  hand,  at  the  same  time 
whispering  his  brother's  name.  It  was  during  the  time  of 
the  carnival,  when  it  is  so  much  the  custom  for  people  to 
wear  disguises  that  such  things  excite  no  surprise.  An- 
selmo  would  have  seized  the  stranger  by  the  hand,  but  he 
quickly  disappeared  in  the  crowd ;  and  full  of  wonder  and 
anxiety,  the  young  man  read  the  letter  which  had  been 
thrust  into  his  hand. 

"  Anselmo,  I  live !  I  am  well !  I  beseech  thee,  as  thou 
lovest  me,  fail  not  to  do  for  me  what  I  shall  require.  Go 
thou  every  night  down  the  lane  that  leads  along  the  south 
wall  of  the  palace ;  ten  paces  from  the  last  window  thou 
shalt  find  a  narrow  slit  in  the  wall ;  bring  with  thee  a  dark 
lantern,  and  into  that  slit  do  thou  place  it,  turning  the 
light  inward,  that  thou  may  not  be  discovered.  Thou 
shalt  be  at  the  place  every  night  at  twelve,  and  thou 
shalt  stay  until  the  clock  striketh  one.  So  do,  and  one 
night  I  will  meet  thee  there.  Thy  loving  brother  prays 
thee  not  to  fail." 

That  very  night  Anselmo  went  out,  unattended,  in 
hopes  of  meeting  his  brother.  He  carried  a  lantern,  and 
proceeded  to  the  unfrequented  lane  pointed  out  in  the 
letter.  It  was  a  desolate  place,  in  a  thinly  populated 
quarter  of  the  city.  By  the  faint  light  of  the  moon  he 
counted  the  windows,  and  found  the  slit  in  the  wall, 
which  was  deep,  and  fenced  on  the  river  side  with  an  iron 


^  114  8«- 

grating.  Into  this  slit  he  placed  his  lantern,  and  then 
began  to  look  about  him  and  consider  why  his  brother 
should  have  chosen  such  a  place  for  their  meeting. 

Not  far  off  ran  the  river ;  and  he  did  not  doubt  that 
by  water  his  brother  would  come,  for  it  was  evident  that 
he  feared  to  show  himself  in  the  streets  of  the  city. 
Anselmo  started  once  or  twice  during  his  solitary  watch, 
for  he  thought  he  distinguished  the  splash  of  an  oar,  and 
then  an  advancing  footstep ;  but  he  was  mistaken.  His 
brother  did  not  come  to  meet  him  that  night,  nor  the 
next,  nor  the  one  after ;  and  when  he  had  come  to  await 
him  every  night  for  a  fortnight,  he  began  to  get  sick  at 
heart. 

And  yet  there  was  no  way  but  this ;  he  was  to  watch 
until  his  brother  came.  It  was  his  only  chance  of  seeing 
him ;  and  he  went  on  without  once  failing  for  eleven 
months  and  twenty  days. 

In  order  that  he  might  do  this  more  secretly,  he  fre- 
quently changed  his  lodgings ;  for,  as  the  time  wore  on, 
he  began  to  fear  that  his  brother  might  have  enemies, 
and  he  felt  that. the  greatest  caution  was  required,  lest 
his  constant  visits  to  that  quarter  of  the  city  might  lead 
to  suspicion. 

A  strange  piece  of  blind  obedience,  and  of  trust  in 
his  brother  this  seemed,  even  to  himself.  What  appeared 
to  him  the  strangest  part  of  the  letter  was  the  entreaty 
that  he  would   always  bring  a  lantern.     ''  As   if   there 


-^  115  B^ 

could  be  any  fear,"  he  thought,  "  of  my  not  recognizing 
his  step,  or  as  if  it  could  be  likely  that  more  men  than 
one  could  be  standing  by  that  solitary  corner."  But  An- 
selmo  watched  on,  though  hope  became  faint,  even  in  his 
strong  and  patient  heart. 

The  clock  struck  one.  "Eleven  months,"  said  he, 
"  and  one-and-twenty  days !  I  will  watch  for  thee  the 
year  out."  He  put  his  hand  into  the  slit  in  the  wall  and 
withdrew  his  lantern ;  it  was  dying  in  the  socket. 
"  What,"  said  he,  "  is  the  light  also  weary  of  watching  ?  " 

He  turned,  and  as  he  did  so  a  heavy  stone  near  his  feet 
was  raised  from  beneath,  and  up  from  under  the  earth 
came  his  brother. 

"Thy  cloak  —  quick!  Cover  me  with  it,"  he  whis- 
pered.    "  Hide  my  prison  garments." 

"Thy  prison  garments!"  repeated  Anselmo  faintly; 
for  he  was  startled  and  amazed. 

His  brother  took  the  cloak  and  wrapped  himself  in  it. 
It  was  not  so  dark  but  that  Anselmo  could  see  that  his 
feet  were  bare  and  his  face  haggard.  He  took  the  lantern 
and  threw  it  down,  beckoning  toward  the  river.  "  Let 
it  lie,"  he  said  to  his  young  brother. 

"  I  am  sorry  the  light  has  gone  out  just  when  it  is 
wanted,"  said  Anselmo ;  for  he  was  still  amazed,  and 
scarcely  knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 

"  Eleven  months  and  twenty-one  days  hath  it  served 
me  well,"   his  brother  replied;    "nothing  else,  whether 


-»8  116  8«- 

alive  or  dead,  saving  thyself  only,  will  serve  me  so  well 
again." 

What  a  strange  thing  this  was  to  hear;  but  the  walls 
of  the  old  Italian  city  echoed  the  sound  so  softly  that 
none  awoke  to  listen,  and  the  two  figures,  gliding  under 
the  deep  shadow  of  the  houses,  passed  away,  and  were 
seen  there  no  more. 

By  morning  dawn  a  vessel  left  the  harbor,  and  two 
brothers  stood  upon  the  deck,  bidding  farewell  to  their 
native  country.  One  was  young,  the  other  had  a  w^an 
face,  and  hands  hardened  by  labor ;  but  the  prison  dress 
was  gone,  and  both  were  clad  in  the  usual  costume  of 
their  rank  and  order. 

"  And  now  that  we  are  safe  and  together,"  said  An- 
selmo,  "  I  pray  thee  tell  me  thy  story.  Why  didst  thou 
keep  me  waiting  so  long,  and  where  didst  thou  rise  from 
at  last  ?  " 

"  That  1  can  tell  thee  at  all  is  thy  doing,"  answered 
his  brother,  "because  thou  didst  never  fail  to  bring  me 
the  lantern." 

And  then,  while  the  gray  Italian  shores  grew  faint  in 
the  sunny  distance,  and  all  hearts  began  to  turn  toward 
the  new  world,  whither  the  vessel  was  bound,  Anselmo's 
brother  descended  into  the  cabin,  and  there  told  him,  with 
many  expressions  of  affection,  the  story  of  his  imprison- 
ment and  escape. 

On  the  night  wlien  he  disappeared  he  was  surrounded 


-^  117  ^ 

by  a  number  of  his  enemies,  but  after  making  a  desperate 
defence,  he  was  overpowered  and  thrown  into  prison.  In 
a  dreadful  dungeon  he  lay  until  his  wounds  were  healed, 
and  then,  for  some  reason  unknown  to  himself,  he  was 
given  into  the  keeping  of  his  worst  enemy.  By  this 
enemy  he  was  taken  to  the  palace  and  confined  in  a 
dungeon,  that,  as  he  said,  '^  nothing  it  seemed  could 
have  broken  through,  unless  his  teeth  had  been  strong 
enough  to  eat  through  the  wall." 

Almost  every  hour  in  the  day  his  enemy  came  and 
looked  at  him  through  a  hole  in  the  door,  his  food  was 
given  him  by  means  of  this  same  hole ;  and  when  he  com- 
plained of  the  want  of  bedding,  they  gave  him,  also  by 
means  of  the  small  opening,  a  thin  mattress  and  two 
coarse  rugs  to  cover  him. 

This  dungeon  contained  nothing  but  one  large  chest, 
placed  against  the  wall  and  half  filled  with  heavy  stones. 
In  the  daytime  light  came  through  the  little  slit  in  the 
wall ;  but  in  daylight  he  could  do  nothing,  for  his  enemy's 
eyes  were  frequently  upon  him.  From  twelve  o'clock  till 
three  in  the  night  were  the  only  hours  when  all  his  jailers 
slept ;  and  then  it  was  dark,  and  he  could  do  nothing  but 
feel  the  strength  and  thickness  of  the  wall.  A  hopeless 
task,  indeed,  to  break  it  down  with  one  poor  pair  of 
hands ! 

But,  after  months  of  misery  and  despair,  one  of  the 
jailers  took  pity  on  him,  and  asked  him  whether  there 


-^  118  B«- 

was  anything  he  could  do  to  help  him  to  endure  his  cap- 
tivity better.  "Yes,"  said  the  poor  prisoner;  "I  have 
been  a  studious  man,  and  if  I  could  now  read,  it  would 
help  me  to  forget  my  misery.  I  dare  not  read  in  the 
daytime,  for  my  enemy  would  not  allow  me  to  have  such 
a  solace ;  but  in  the  night,  if  I  could  have  a  light  in  the 
slit,  I  could  read  while  my  enemy  sleeps." 

The  jailer  was  frightened,  and  told  him  not  to  think 
of  it ;  yet,  when  he  looked  at  the  height  of  the  slit  and 
its  small  size,  and  heard  the  words  which  were  to  con- 
vey this  request  for  a  light,  and  knew  that  they  told 
nothing  as  to  where  Anselmo's  brother  was,  he  consented 
to  convey  them,  first  getting  a  promise  that  he  would 
never  attempt  to  speak  to  his  brother,  even  if  he  should 
find  it  possible. 

Whether  this  jailer  felt  certain  that  he  never  could 
escape,  whether  he  was  partly  willing  to  aid  in  his  escape, 
or  whether  he  pitied  him,  and  thought  no  harm  could 
come  of  the  light,  is  not  known  ;  certain  it  is  that  he 
searched  the  dungeon  diligently  every  night,  and  ex- 
amined the  iron  protections  of  the  slit.  It  was  far  above 
the  prisoner's  head,  and  when  the  jailer  found  that  all 
was  safe,  he  appeared  satisfied ;  yet  the  work  of  breaking 
through  the  wall  began  the  first  night  of  the  lantern,  and 
never  ceased  until  it  came  to  a  triumphant  conclusion. 

The  great  chest,  as  has  been  said,  was  half  full  of 
heavy  stones.     As  soon  as  the  light  enabled  him  to  act 


^  119  B^ 

with  certainty  and  perfect  quiet,  he  laid  his  mattress  and 
rugs  beside  it,  opened  its  lid,  took  every  stone  out  in  turn, 
and  placed  it  on  the  mattress.  Then,  exerting  all  his 
strength,  he  lifted  the  chest  away,  and  began  to  under- 
mine the  stones  behind  it  and  under  it. 

With  wonderful  skill  and  caution  he  went  gradually 
on  ;  but  it  took  twenty  minutes  of  labor  to  empty  the 
chest,  and  twenty  minutes  to  fill  it,  with  equal  quiet. 
There  remained,  therefore,  only  twenty  minutes  in  which 
to  perform  the  rest  of  his  labor. 

But  for  the  light,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to 
handle  the  stones  with  less  certainty,  and,  of  course,  the 
least  noise  would  have  caused  all  to  be  discovered.  How 
little  could  be  done  each  night  becomes  evident  when  it 
is  remembered  that  the  stone  and  rubbish  which  he  dis- 
placed had  to  be  put  back  again,  and  the  chest  returned 
to  the  same  position  before  the  light  was  withdrawn. 

For  nine  months  he  made  little  progress,  and  for  the 
next  two  months  the  difficulty  of  disposing  of  the  rubbish 
daunted  him ;  but  the  last  night  such  a  quantity  of  earth 
caved  in  that  he  resolved  to  make  a  daring  effort  to  escape. 
He  crept  through  the  hole,  and  shielding  his  head  with  one 
arm,  pushed  upward  with  the  other.  More  and  more  earth 
fell,  and  at  last,  nearly  suffocated,  he  applied  all  his  strength 
to  the  flat  stone  that  it  had  left  bare,  pushed  it  up,  an^ 
escaped  to  life  and  freedom. 

—  Jean  Ingelow. 


-^  120  8«- 

THE   BUILDING   OF   THE   SHIP 

"  Build  me  straight,  0  worthy  master ! 

Stanch  and  strong,  a  goodly  vessel, 
That  shall  laugh  at  all  disaster, 

And  with  wave  and  whirlwind  wrestle !  " 

The  merchant's  word, 

Delighted,  the  Master  heard ; 

For  his  heart  was  in  his  work,  and  the  heart 

Giveth  grace  unto  every  Art. 

A  quiet  smile  played  round  his  lips, 

As  the  eddies  and  dimples  of  the  tide 

Play  round  the  bows  of  ships, 

That  steadily  at  anchor  ride. 

And  with  a  voice  that  was  full  of  glee, 

He  answered,  "  Ere  long  we  will  launch 

A  vessel  as  goodly  and  strong  and  stanch, 

As  ever  weathered  a  wintry  sea !  " 

And  first  with  nicest  skill  and  art, 

Perfect  and  finished  in  every  part, 

A  little  model  the  Master  wrought, 

Which  should  be  to  the  larger  plan 

What  the  child  is  to  the  man, 

Its  counterpart  in  miniature  : 

That  with  a  hand  more  swift 'and  sure 

The  greater  labor  might  be  brought 


-^  121  8<- 

To  answer  to  his  inward  thought. 

And  as  he  labored,  his  mind  ran  o'er 

The  various  ships  that  were  built  of  yore, 

And  above  them  all,  and  strangest  of  all 

Towered  the  Great  Harry,  crank  and  tall. 

Whose  picture  was  hanging  on  the  wall. 

With  bows  and  stern  raised  high  in  air. 

And  balconies  hanging  here  and  there, 

And  signal  lanterns  and  flags  afloat. 

And  eight  round  towers,  like  those  that  frown 

From  some  old  castle,  looking  down 

Upon  the  drawbridge  and  the  moat. 

And  he  said  with  a  smile,  "  Our  ship,  I  wis, 

Shall  be  of  another  form  than  this  !  " 

It  was  of  another  form,  indeed  ; 

Built  for  freight,  and  yet  for  speed, 

A  beautiful  and  gallant  craft ; 

Broad  in  the  beam,  that  the  stress  of  the  blast, 

Pressing  down  upon  sail  and  mast, 

Might  not  the  sharp  bows  overwhelm ; 

Broad  in  the  beam,  but  sloping  aft 

With  graceful  curve  and  slow  degrees. 

That  she  might  be  docile,  to  the  helm. 

And  that  the  currents  of  parted  seas. 

Closing  behind,  with  mighty  force. 

Might  aid  and  not  impede  her  course. 


-^  122  Q^ 

In  the  shipyard  stood  the  Master, 
With  the  model  of  the  vessel, 

That  should  laugh  at  all  disaster. 

And  with  wave  and  whirlwind  wrestle  ! 

Covering  many  a  rood  of  ground, 

Lay  the  timber  piled  around ; 

Timber  of  chestnut  and  elm  and  oak. 

And  scattered  here  and  there,  with  these. 

The  knarred  and  crooked  cedar  knees ; 

Brought  from  regions  far  away. 

From  Pascagoula's  sunny  bay. 

And  the  banks  of  the  roaring  Roanoke ! 

Ah !  what  a  wondrous  thing  it  is 

To  note  how  many  wheels  of  toil 

One  thought,  one  word,  can  set  in  motion  ! 

There's  not  a  ship  that  sails  the  ocean, 

But  every  climate,  every  soil. 

Must  bring  its  tribute,  great  or  small, 

And  help  to  build  the  wooden  wall! 

The  sun  was  rising  o'er  the  sea, 
And  long  the  level  shadows  lay, 
As  if  they,  too,  the  beams  would  be 
Of  some  great,  airy  argosy, 
Framed  and  launched  in  a  single  day. 
That  silent  architect,  the  sun, 
Had  hewn  and  laid  them  every  one, 


^  123  8«- 

Ere  the  work  of  man  was  yet  begun. 
Beside  the  Master,  when  he  spoke, 
A  youth,  against  an  anchor  leaning, 
Listened,  to  catch  his  shghtest  meaning. 
Only  the  long  waves,  as  they  broke 
In  ripples  on  the  pebbly  beach. 
Interrupted  the  old  man's  speech. 

Beautiful  they  were,  in  sooth, 

The  old  man  and  the  fiery  youth ! 

The  old  man,  in  whose  busy  brain 

Many  a  ship  that  sailed  the  main 

Was  modelled  o'er  and  o'er  again ;  — 

The  fiery  youth,  who  was  to  be 

The  heir  of  his  dexterity, 

The  heir  of  his  house,  and  his  daughter's  hand, 

When  he  had  built  and  launched  from  land 

What  the  elder  head  had  planned. 

"  Thus,"  said  he,  "  will  we  build  this  ship  ! 
Lay  square  the  blocks  upon  the  slip. 
And  follow  well  this  plan  of  mine. 
Choose  the  timbers  with  greatest  care ; 
Of  all  that  is  unsound  beware ; 
For  only  what  is  sound  and  strong 
To  this  vessel  shall  belong. 
Cedar  of  Maine  and  Georgia  pine 


-^  124  d^ 

Here  together  shall  combine. 

A  goodly  frame,  and  a  goodly  fame, 

And  the  Union  be  her  name ! 

For  the  day  that  gives  her  to  the  sea 

Shall  give  my  daughter  unto  thee ! " 

The  Master's  word 

Enraptured  the  young  man  heard ; 

And  as  he  turned  his  face  aside, 

With  a  look  of  joy  and  a  thrill  of  pride, 

Standing  before 

Her  father's  door, 

He  saw  the  form  of  his  promised  bride. 

The  sun  shone  on  her  golden  hair. 

And  her  cheek  was  glowing  fresh  and  fair, 

With  the  breath  of  morn  and  the  soft  sea  air. 

Like  a  beauteous  barge  was  she. 

Still  at  rest  on  the  sandy  beach, 

Just  beyond  the  billow's  reach ; 

But  he 

Was  the  restless,  seething,  stormy  sea ! 

Ah,  how  skilful  grows  the  hand 
That  obeyeth  Love's  command ! 
It  is  the  heart,  and  not  the  brain, 
That  to  the  highest  doth  attain. 
And  he  who  followeth  Love's  behest 
Far  excelleth  all  the  rest ! 


-^8  125  S«- 

Thus  with  the  rising  of  the  sun 

Was  the  noble  task  begun, 

And  soon  throughout  the  shipyard's  bounds 

Were  heard  the  intermingled  sounds 

Of  axes  and  of  mallets,  plied 

With  vigorous  arms  on  every  side ; 

Plied  so  deftly  and  so  well, 

That,  e'er  the  shadows  of  evening  fell, 

The  keel  of  oak  for  a  noble  ship, 

Scarfed  and  bolted,  straight  and  strong, 

Was  lying  ready,  and  stretched  along 

The  blocks,  well  placed  upon  the  slip. 

Happy,  thrice  happy,  every  one 

Who  sees  his  labor  well  begun. 

And  not  perplexed  and  multiplied, 

By  idly  waiting  for  time  and  tide ! 

And  when  the  hot,  long  day  was  o'er, 
The  young  man  at  the  Master's  door 
Sat  with  the  maiden  calm  and  still. 
And  within  the  porch,  a  little  more 
Kemoved  beyond  the  evening  chill, 
The  father  sat,  and  told  them  tales 
Of  wrecks  in  the  great  September  gales, 
Of  pirates  coasting  the  Spanish  Main, 
And  ships  that  never  came  back  again, 
The  chance  and  change  of  a  sailor's  life, 


-^  126  8«- 

Want  and  plenty,  rest  and  strife, 

His  roving  fancy,  like  the  wind. 

That  nothing  can  stay  and  nothing  can  bind. 

And  the  magic  charm  of  foreign  lands, 

With  shadows  of  palms,  and  shining  sands. 

Where  the  tumbling  surf. 

O'er  the  coral  reefs  of  Madagascar, 

Washes  the  feet  of  the  swarthy  Lascar, 

As  he  lies  alone  and  asleep  on  the  turf. 

And  the  trembling  maiden  held  her  breath 

At  the  tales  of  that  awful,  pitiless  sea. 

With  all  its  terror  and  mystery. 

The  dim,  dark  sea,  so  like  unto  Death, 

That  divides  and  yet  unites  mankind ! 

And  whenever  the  old  man  paused,  a  gleam 

From  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  would  awhile  illume 

The  silent  group  in  the  twilight  gloom, 

And  thoughtful  faces,  as  in  a  dream. 

Day  by  day  the  vessel  grew, 
With  timbers  fashioned  strong  and  true, 
Stemson  and  keelson  and  sternson-knee. 
Till,  framed  with  perfect  symmetry, 
A  skeleton  ship  rose  up  to  view ! 
And  around  the  bows  and  along  the  side 
The  heavy  hammers  and  mallets  plied. 
Till  after  many  a  week,  at  length. 


-5g  127  8«- 

Wonderful  for  form  and  strength, 

Sublime  in  its  enormous  bulk, 

Loomed  aloft  the  shadowy  hulk ! 

And  around  it  columns  of  smoke,  upwreathing, 

Kose  from  the  boiling,  bubbling,  seething 

Caldron,  that  glowed, 

And  overflowed 

With  the  black  tar,  heated  for  the  sheathing. 

And  amid  the  clamors 

Of  clattering  hammers. 

He  who  listened  heard  now  and  then 

The  song  of  the  Master  and  his  men :  — 

"  Build  me  straight,  0  worthy  Master, 
Stanch  and  strong,  a  goodly  vessel. 

That  shall  laugh  at  all  disaster. 

And  with  wave  and  whirlwind  wrestle  !  " 

With  oaken  brace  and  copper  band. 

Lay  the  rudder  on  the  sand. 

That,  like  a  thought,  should  have  control 

Over  the  movement  of  the  whole ; 

And  near  it  the  anchor,  whose  giant  hand 

Would  reach  down  and  grapple  with  the  land, 

And  immovable  and  fast. 

Hold  the  great  ship  against  the  bellowing  blast. 

And  at  the  bows  an  image  stood. 


-^  128  B<- 

By  a  cunning  artist  carved  in  wood, 

With  robes  of  white,  that  far  behind 

Seemed  to  be  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

It  was  not  shaped  in  a  classic  mould. 

Not  like  a  Nymph  or  Goddess  of  old. 

Or  Naiad  rising  from  the  water, 

But  modelled  from  the  Master's  daughter ! 

On  many  a  dreary  and  misty  night, 

'Twill  be  seen  by  the  rays  of  the  signal  light. 

Speeding  along  through  the  rain  and  the  dark, 

Like  a  ghost  in  its  snow-white  sark, 

The  pilot  of  some  phantom  bark. 

Guiding  the  vessel,  in  its  flight, 

By  a  path  none  other  knows  aright ! 

Behold,  at  last, 

Each  tall  and  tapering  mast 

Is  swung  into  its  place ; 

Shrouds  and  stays 

Holding  it  firm  and  fast ! 

Long  ago, 

In  the  deer-haunted  forests  of  Maine, 

When  upon  mountain  and  plain 

Lay  the  snow, 

They  fell,  —  those  lordly  pines  ! 

Those  grand,  majestic  pines ! 

'Mid  shouts  and  cheers 


-«  129  ^ 

The  jaded  steers, 

Panting  beneath  the  goad, 

Dragged  down  the  weary,  winding  road 

Those  captive  kings  so  straight  and  tall, 

To  be  shorn  of  their  streaming  hair. 

And,  naked  and  bare, 

To  feel  the  stress  and  the  strain 

Of  the  wind  and  the  reeling  main. 

Whose  roar 

Would  remind  them  forevermore 

Of  their  native  forest  they  should  not  see  again. 

And  everywhere 

The  slender,  graceful  spars 

Poise  aloft  in  the  air. 

And  at  the  masthead, 

White,  blue,  and  red, 

A  flag  unrolls  the  stripes  and  stars. 

Ah  !  when  the  wanderer,  lonely,  friendless, 

In  foreign  harbors  shall  behold 

That  flag  unrolled, 

'Twill  be  as  a  friendly  hand 

Stretched  out  from  his  native  land. 

Filling  his  heart  with  memories  sweet  and  endless. 

All  is  finished  !  and  at  length 
Has  come  the  bridal  day 


-«  130  8«- 

Of  beauty  and  of  strength. 

To-day  the  vessel  shall  be  launched  ! 

With  fleecy  clouds  the  sky  is  blanched, 

And  o'er  the  bay, 

Slowly,  in  all  his  splendors  dight. 

The  great  sun  rises  to  behold  the  sight. 

The  ocean  old, 

Centuries  old. 

Strong  as  youth,  and  as  uncontrolled. 

Paces  restless  to  and  fro, 

Up  and  down  the  sands  of  gold. 

His  beating  heart  is  not  at  rest ; 

And  far  and  wide, 

With  ceaseless  flow. 

His  beard  of  snow 

Heaves  with  the  heaving  of  his  breast. 

He  waits  impatient  for  his  bride. 

There  she  stands. 

With  her  foot  upon  the  sands. 

Decked  with  flags  and  streamers  gay, 

In  honor  of  her  marriage  day, 

Her  snow-white  signals  fluttering,  blending. 

Round  her  like  a  veil  descending. 

Ready  to  be 

The  bride  of  the  gray  old  sea. 

On  the  deck  another  bride 


-^  131  ^ 


THE   BUILDING   OF  THE   SHIP 


-^  132  8«- 

Is  standing  by  her  lover's  side. 
Shadows  from  the  flags  and  shrouds, 
Like  the  shadows  cast  by  clouds, 
Broken  by  many  a  sunny  fleck, 
Fall  around  them  on  the  deck. 

The  prayer  is  said. 

The  service  read. 

The  joyous  bridegroom  bows  his  head ; 

And  in  tears  the  good  old  Master 

Shakes  the  brown  hand  of  his  son. 

Kisses  his  daughter's  glowing  cheek 

In  silence,  for  he  cannot  speak. 

And  ever  faster 

Down  his  own  the  tears  began  to  run. 

The  worthy  pastor  — 

The  shepherd  of  that  wandering  flock, 

That  has  the  ocean  for  its  wold. 

That  has  the  vessel  for  its  fold. 

Leaping  ever  from  rock  to  rock  — 

Spake,  with  accents  mild  and  clear. 

Words  of  warning,  words  of  cheer, 

But  tedious  to  the  bridegroom's  ear. 

"Like  unto  ships  far  off  at  sea, 
Outward  or  homeward  bound  are  we. 
Before,  behind,  and  all  around. 
Floats  and  swings  the  horizon's  bound. 


-^  133  ^ 

Seems  at  its  distant  rim  to  rise 

And  climb  the  crystal  wall  of  the  skies. 

And  then  again  to  turn  and  sink, 

As  if  we  could  slide  from  its  outer  brink. 

Ah  !  it  is  not  the  sea, 

It  is  not  the  sea  that  sinks  and  shelves, 

But  ourselves 

That  rock  and  rise 

With  endless  and  uneasy  motion, 

Now  touching  the  very  skies. 

Now  sinking  into  the  depths  of  ocean. 

Ah !  if  our  souls  but  poise  and  swing 

Like  the  compass  in  its  brazen  ring, 

Ever  level  and  ever  true 

To  the  toil  and  the  task  we  have  to  do, 

We  shall  sail  securely,  and  safely  reach 

The  Fortunate  Isles,  on  whose  shining  beach 

The  sights  we  see,  and  the  sounds  we  hear. 

Will  be  those  of  joy,  and  not  of  fear !  " 

Then  the  Master, 

With  a  gesture  of  command, 

Waved  his  hand ; 

And  at  the  word, 

Loud  and  sudden  there  was  heard. 

All  around  them  and  below. 

The  sound  of  hammers,  blow  on  blow, 


-^  134  6«- 

Knocking  away  the  shores  and  spurs. 

And  see  !  she  stirs ! 

She  starts,  —  she  moves,  —  she  seems  to  feel 

The  thrill  of  life  along  her  keel, 

And,  spurning  with  her  foot  the  ground, 

With  one  exulting,  joyous  bound, 

She  leaps  into  the  ocean's  arms ! 

And  lo !  from  the  assembled  crowd 

There  rose  a  shout,  prolonged  and  loud. 

That  to  the  ocean  seemed  to  say, 

"  Take  her,  0  bridegroom,  old  and  gray. 

Take  her  to  thy  protecting  arms. 

With  all  her  youth  and  all  her  charms !  " 

How  beautiful  she  is  !     How  fair 

She  lies  within  those  arms,  that  press 

Her  form  with  many  a  soft  caress 

Of  tenderness  and  watchful  care ! 

Sail  forth  into  the  sea,  0  ship ! 

Through  wind  and  wave  right  onward  steer. 

The  moistened  eye,  the  trembling  lip, 

Are  not  the  signs  of  doubt  or  fear. 

Sail  forth  into  the  sea  of  life, 
0  gentle,  loving,  trusting  wife ! 
And  safe  from  all  adversity 
Upon  the  bosom  of  that  sea 
Thy  comings  and  thy  goings  be ! 


^  135  S«- 

For  gentleness  and  love  and  trust 
Prevail  o'er  angry  wave  and  gust; 
And  in  the  wreck  of  noble  lives 
Something  immortal  still  survives. 

Thou,  too,  sail  on,  0  Ship  of  State ! 

Sail  on,  0  Union,  strong  and  great ! 

Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 

With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 

Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate  ! 

We  know  what  Master  laid  thy  keel. 

What  Workman  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 

Who  made  each  mast  and  sail  and  rope, 

What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat. 

In  what  a  forge  and  what  a  heat 

Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope ! 

Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock, 

'Tis  of  the  wave  and  not  the  rock ; 

'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail. 

And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale ! 

In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest's  roar, 

In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore. 

Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea ! 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee. 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 

Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 

Are  all  with  thee,  —  are  all  with  thee  ! 

—  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 


^  136  3<- 


THE   MIRACULOUS   PITCHER  i 


Part  I 


Baucis  ^ 

amends 

Philemon 

benign 

yonder 

aspect 

clambered 

foretold 

distaff 

extremity 

hospitality 

perceived 

frugal 

gratitude 

confused 

meandered 

pitiable 

reflected 

disdaining 

beneficently 

One  evening,  in  times  long  ago,  old  Philemon  and  his 
wife  Baucis  sat  at  their  cottage  door,  enjoying  the  calm 
and  beautiful  sunset.  They  had  already  eaten  their 
frugal  supper,  and  intended  now  to  spend  a  quiet  hour 
or  two  before  bedtime.  So  they  talked  together  about 
their  garden,  and  their  cow,  and  their  bees,  and  their 
grapevine,  which  clambered  over  the  cottage  wall,  and  on 
which  the  grapes  were  beginning  to  turn  purple. 

The  rude  shouts  of  the  children,  and  the  fierce  barking 
of  dogs  in  the  village  near  at  hand,  grew  louder  and 
louder,  until,  at  last,  it  was  hardly  possible  for  Baucis 
and  Philemon  to  hear  each  other  speak. 

^' Ah,  wife,"  cried  Philemon,  '^I  fear  some  poor  traveller 
is  seeking  hospitality  among  our  neighbors  yonder,  and, 
instead  of  giving  him  food  and  lodging,  they  have  set 
their  dogs  at  him,  as  their  custom  is." 

1  See  note  on  page  261. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-«  137  8<- 

*' Well-a-day ! "  answered  Baucis,  "  I  do  wish  our  neigh- 
bors felt  a  little  more  kindness  for  their  fellow-creatures. 
And  only  think  of  bringing  up  their  children  in  this 
naughty  way,  and  patting  them  on  the  head  when  they 
fling  stones  at  strangers  !  " 

"  Those  children  will  never  come  to  any  good  end," 
said  Philemon,  shaking  his  white  head.  "  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  wife,  I  should  not  wonder  if  some  terrible  thing 
were  to  happen  to  all  the  people  in  the  village,  unless 
they  mend  their  manners.  But,  as  for  you  and  me,  as 
long  as  Providence  affords  us  a  crust  of  bread,  let  us  be 
ready  to  give  half  to  any  poor,  homeless  stranger  that 
may  come  along  and  need  it." 

"  That's  right,  husband,"  said  Baucis.  "  So  we 
will ! " 

These  old  folks,  you  must  know,  were  quite  poor,  and 
had  to  work  hard  for  a  living.  Old  Philemon  toiled 
diligently  in  his  garden,  while  Baucis  was  always  busy 
with  her  distaff,  or  making  a  little  butter  and  cheese 
with  their  cow's  milk,  or  doing  one  thing  and  another 
about  the  cottage.  Their  food  was  seldom  anything  but 
bread,  milk,  and  vegetables,  with  sometimes  a  portion  of 
honey  from  their  beehive,  and  now  and  then  a  bunch  of 
grapes  that  had  ripened  against  the  cottage  wall. 

They  were  two  of  the  kindest  old  people  in  the  world, 
and  would  cheerfully  have  gone  without  their  dinners, 
any  day,  rather  than  refuse  a  slice  of  their  brown  loaf, 


-^  138  3«- 

a  cup  of  new  milk,  and  a  spoonful  of  honey  to  the  weary 
traveller  who  might  pause  before  their  door. 

Their  cottage  stood  on  a  low  hill,  at  some  short  dis- 
tance from  a  village,  which  lay  in  a  hollow  valley  that 
was  about  half  a  mile  in  breadth.  This  valley,  in  past 
ages,  when  the  world  was  new,  had  probably  been  the 
bed  of  a  lake.  There  fishes  had  glided  to  and  fro  in 
the  depths,  water-weeds  had  grown  along  the  margin, 
and  trees  and  hills  had  seen  their  reflected  images  in  the 
broad  and  peaceful  mirror.  But,  as  the  waters  subsided, 
men  had  cultivated  the  soil,  and  built  houses  on  it,  so 
that  it  was  now  a  fertile  spot,  and  bore  no  traces  of  the 
ancient  lake,  except  a  very  small  brook,  which  meandered 
through  the  midst  of  the  village,  and  supplied  the  inhabit- 
ants with  water. 

The  valley  had  been  dry  land  so  long  that  oaks  had 
sprung  up,  and  grown  great  and  high,  and  perished  with 
old  age,  and  been  succeeded  by  others,  as  tall  and  stately 
as  the  first.  Never  was  there  a  prettier  or  more  fruitful 
valley.  The  very  sight  of  the  plenty  around  them  should 
have  made  the  inhabitants  kind  and  gentle,  and  ready  to 
show  their  gratitude  to  Providence  by  doing  good  to  their 
fellow-creatures. 

But,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  the  people  of  this  lovely 
village  were  not  worthy  to  dwell  in  a  spot  on  which 
Heaven  had  smiled  so  beneficently.  They  were  a  very 
selfish  and  hard-hearted  people,  and  had  no  pity  for  the 


-59  139  e^ 

poor,  nor  sympathy  with  the  homeless.  They  would  only 
have  laughed,  had  anybody  told  them  that  human  beings 
owe  a  debt  of  love  to  one  another,  because  there  is  no 
other  method  of  paying  the  debt  of  love  and  care  which 
all  of  us  owe  to  Providence. 

You  will  hardly  believe  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you. 
These  wicked  people  taught  their  children  to  be  no 
better  than  themselves,  and  used  to  clap  their  hands  by 
way  of  encouragement  when  they  saw  the  little  boys  and 
girls  run  after  some  poor  stranger,  shouting  at  his  heels, 
and  pelting  him  with  stones.  They  kept  large  and  fierce 
dogs,  and  whenever  a  traveller  ventured  to  show  himself 
in  the  village  street,  this  pack  of  disagreeable  curs  scam- 
pered to  meet  him,  barking,  snarling,  and  showing  their 
teeth.  Then  they  would  seize  him  by  his  leg,  or  by  his 
clothes,  just  as  it  happened  ;  and  if  he  were  ragged  when 
he  came,  he  was  generally  a  pitiable  object  before  he  had 
time  to  run  away.  This  was  a  very  terrible  thing  to 
poor  travellers,  as  you  may  suppose,  especially  when  they 
chanced  to  be  sick,  or  feeble,  or  lame,  or  old.  Such  per- 
sons (if  they  once  knew  how  badly  these  unkind  people, 
and  the  unkind  children  and  dogs,  were  in  the  habit  of 
behaving)  would  go  miles  and  miles  out  of  their  w^ay, 
rather  than  try  to  pass  through  the  village  again. 

So  now  you  can  understand  why  Philemon  spoke  so 
sorrowfully,  when  he  heard  the  shouts  of  the  children 
and  the  barking  of  the  dogs  at  the  farther  extremity  of 


-^  140  8<- 

the  village  street.  There  was  a  confused  din,  which 
lasted  a  good  while,  and  seemed  to  pass  quite  through 
the  breadth  of  the  valley. 

"  I  never  heard  the  dogs  bark  so  loudly  !  "  observed 
the  good  old  man. 

"  Nor  the  children  shout  so  rudely !  "  answered  his 
good  old  wife. 

They  sat  shaking  their  heads,  one  to  another,  w^hile 
the  noise  came  nearer  and  nearer,  until,  at  the  foot  of 
the  little  eminence  on  which  their  cottage  stood,  they 
saw  two  travellers  approaching  on  foot.  Close  behind 
them  came  the  fierce  dogs,  snarling  at  their  very  heels. 

A  little  farther  off  ran  a  group  of  children,  who  sent 
up  shrill  cries,  and  flung  stones  at  the  two  strangers  with 
all  their  might.  Once  or  twice  the  younger  of  the  two 
men  (he  was  a  slender  and  very  active  figure)  turned 
about  and  drove  back  the  dogs  with  a  staff,  which  he 
carried  in  his  hand.  His  companion,  who  was  a  very 
tall  person,  walked  calmly  along,  as  if  disdaining  to 
notice  either  the  naughty  children,  or  the  pack  of  dogs, 
whose  manner  the  children  seemed  to  imitate. 

Both  of  the  travellers  were  very  humbly  clad,  and 
looked  as  if  they  might  not  have  money  enough  in  their 
pockets  to  pay  for  a  night's  lodging.  And  this,  I  am 
afraid,  was  the  reason  why  the  villagers  had  allowed 
their  children  and  dogs  to  treat  them  so  rudely. 

"Come,  wife,"  said  Philemon  to  Baucis,  "let  us  go 


■^  141  8«- 

and  meet  these  people.  No  doubt  they  feel  almost  too 
heavy-hearted  to  climb  the  hill." 

^^Go  you  and  meet  them/'  answered  Baucis,  "while 
I  make  haste  within  doors,  and  see  whether  we  can  get 
them  anything  for  supper.  A  comfortable  bowl  of  bread 
and  milk  would  do  wonders  toward  raising  their  spirits." 

Accordingly,  she  hastened  to  the  cottage.  Philemon, 
on  his  part,  went  forward,  and  extended  his  hand,  saying 
in  the  heartiest  tone  imaginable,  "  Welcome,  strangers ! 
welcome ! " 

"  Thank  you,"  replied  the  younger  of  the  two,  in  a 
lively  kind  of  a  way,  notwithstanding  his  weariness  and 
trouble.  "  This  is  quite  another  greeting  than  we  have 
met  with  yonder  in  the  village.  Pray,  why  do  you  live 
in  such  a  bad  neighborhood?" 

"Ah,"  observed  old  Philemon,  with  a  quiet  and  be- 
nign smile,  "  Providence  put  me  here,  I  hope,  among 
other  reasons,  in  order  that  I  may  make  you  what 
amends  I  can  for  the  inhospitality  of  my  neighbors." 

"  Well  said,  old  father !  "  cried  the  traveller,  laugh- 
ing; "and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  my  companion 
and  myself  need  some  amends.  -Those  children  have 
bespattered  us  finely  with  their  mud-balls;  and  one  of 
the  dogs  has  torn  my  cloak,  which  was  ragged  enough. 
But  I  took  him  across  the  muzzle  with  my  staff ;  and  I 
think  you  may  have  heard  him  yelp,  even  thus  far  off." 

Philemon  was  glad  to  see  him  in  such  good  spirits ; 


-^  142  »- 

nor,  indeed,  would  you  have  fancied,  by  the  traveller's 
look  and  manner,  that  he  was  weary  with  a  long  day's 
journey,  besides  being  disheartened  by  the  rough  treat- 
ment at  the  end  of  it.  He  was  dressed  in  rather  an  odd 
way,  with  a  sort  of  cap  on  his  head,  the  brim  of  which 
stuck  out  over  both  ears. 

Though  it  was  a  summer  evening,  he  wore  a  cloak, 
which  he  kept  wrapped  closely  about  him.  Philemon  per- 
ceived, too,  that  he  had  on  a  singular  pair  of  shoes ;  but  he 
could  not  precisely  tell  in  what  the  strangeness  consisted. 
One  thing,  certainly,  seemed  queer.  The  traveller  was  so 
wonderfully  light  and  active,  that  it  appeared  as  if  his 
feet  sometimes  rose  from  the  ground  of  their  own  accord. 

"  I  used  to  be  light-footed,  in  my  youth,"  said  Phile- 
mon to  the  traveller.  "  But  I  always  find  my  feet  grow 
heavier  toward  nightfall." 

"  There  is  nothing  like  a  good  staff  to  help  one  along," 
answered  the  stranger ;  "  and  I  happen  to  have  an  excel- 
lent one,  as  you  see." 

This  staff,  in  fact,  was  the  oddest-looking  staff  that 
Philemon  had  ever  beheld  ;  it  was  made  of  olive-wood,  and 
had  something  like  a  little  pair  of  wings  near  the  top. 
Two  snakes,  carved  in  wood,  were  represented  as  twining 
themselves  about  the  staff,  and  were  so  very  skilfully 
executed  that  old  Philemon  (whose  eyes,  you  know,  were 
getting  rather  dim)  almost  thought  them  alive,  and  that 
he  could  see  them  wriggling  and  twisting. 


-^  143  B^ 

"A  curious  piece  of  work,  sure  enough!"  said  he. 
'^  A  staff  with  wings  !  It  would  be  an  excellent  kind  of 
stick  for  a  little  boy  to  ride  astride  of !  " 

Before  he  could  ask  any  questions,  the  elder  stranger 
drew  his  attention  from  the  wonderful  staff  by  speaking 
to  him. 

"  Was  there  not,"  asked  the  stranger,  in  a  remarkably 
deep  tone  of  voice,  "  a  lake,  in  very  ancient  times,  cover- 
ing the  spot  where  now  stands  yonder  village  ?  " 

"  Not  in  my  time,  friend,"  answered  Philemon  ;  "  and 
yet  I  am  an  old  man,  as  you  see.  There  were  always  the 
fields  and  meadows,  just  as  they  are  now,  and  the  trees, 
and  the  stream  murmuring  through  the  midst  of  the  val- 
ley. My  father,  and  his  father  before  him,  never  saw  it 
otherwise,  so  far  as  I  know ;  and  doubtless  it  will  still  be 
the  same  when  I  shall  be  gone  and  forgotten !  " 

"  That  is  more  than  can  be  safely  foretold,"  observed 
the  stranger;  and  there  was  something  very  stern  in  his 
deep  voice.  He  shook  his  head,  too,  so  that  his  dark  and 
heavy  curls  were  shaken  with  the  movement.  "  Since 
the  inhabitants  of  yonder  village  have  forgotten  the  affec- 
tions and  sympathies  of  their  nature,  it  were  better  that 
the  lake  should  be  rippling  over  their  dwellings  again !  " 

The  traveller  looked  so  stern  that  Philemon  was 
frightened ;  the  more  so,  that,  at  his  frown,  the  twilight 
seemed  to  grow  darker,  and  when  he  shook  his  head,  there 
was  a  roll  as  of  thunder  in  the  air. 


^  144  8«- 

' 

Part   II 

nimble  ^ 

familiar 

ambrosia 

executed 

gravity 

cascade 

sociability 

countenance 

morsel 

represent 

apologies 

palatable 

draft 

kneading 

exceedingly 

transparent 

herbage 

miraculous 

abundant 

diminishing 

While  Baucis  was  getting  the  supper,  the  travellers 
both  began  to  talk  very  sociably  with  Philemon.  The 
younger,  indeed,  made  so  many  witty  remarks,  that  the 
good  old  man  continually  burst  out  a-laughing,  and  pro- 
nounced him  the  merriest  fellow  whom  he  had  seen  for 
many  a  day. 

"  Pray,  my  young  friend,"  said  he,  as  they  grew 
familiar  together,  "  what  may  I  call  your  name  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  am  very  nimble,  as  you  see,"  answered  the 
traveller.  "  So,  if  you  call  me  Quicksilver,  the  name  will 
fit  tolerably  well." 

'^  Quicksilver  ?  Quicksilver  ?  "  repeated  Philemon,  look- 
ing in  the  traveller's  face,  to  see  if  he  were  making  fun 
of  him.  "  It  is  a  very  odd  name  !  And  your  companion 
there  ?     Has  he  as  strange  a  one  ?  " 

"  You  must  ask  the  thunder  to  tell  it  you ; "  replied 
Quicksilver,  putting  on  a  mysterious  look.  "No  other 
voice  is  loud  enough." 

Then  Philemon  told  the  strangers  about  the  events  of 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  145  °^ 

his  past  life,  in  the  whole  course  of  which  he  had  never 
been  a  score  of  miles  from  this  very  spot.  His  wife 
Baucis  and  himself  had  dwelt  in  the  cottage  from  their 
youth  upwards,  earning  their  bread  by  honest  labor, 
always  poor,  but  still  contented.  He  said,  too,  that 
because  they  loved  one  another  so  very  much,  it  was  the 
wish  of  both  that  death  might  not  separate  them,  but 
that  they  should  die,  as  they  had  lived,  together. 

As  the  stranger  listened,  a  smile  beamed  over  his 
countenance,  and  made  its  expression  as  sweet  as  it  was 
grand. 

"  You  are  a  good  old  man,"  said  he  to  Philemon,  "  and 
you  have  a  good  wife  to  be  your  helpmeet.  It  is  fit  that 
your  wish  should  be  granted." 

And  it  seemed  to  Philemon  just  then,  as  if  the  sunset 
clouds  threw  up  a  bright  flash  from  the  west  and  kindled 
a  sudden  light  in  the  sky. 

Baucis  had  now  got  supper  ready  and,  coming  to  the 
door,  began  to  make  apologies  for  the  poor  fare  which  she 
was  forced  to  set  before  her  guests. 

"  Had  we  known  you  were  coming,"  said  she,  "  my 
good  man  and  myself  would  have  gone  without  a  morsel, 
rather  than  you  should  lack  a  better  supper.  But  I  took 
the  most  part  of  to-day's  milk  to  make  cheese ;  and  our 
last  loaf  is  already  half  eaten.  Ah  me  !  I  never  feel  the 
sorrow  of  being  poor,  save  when  a  poor  traveller  knocks 
at  our  door." 


-^  146  ^ 

"  All  will  be  very  well  ;  do  not  trouble  yourself,  my 
good  dame,"  replied  the  elder  stranger,  kindly.  "An 
honest,  hearty  welcome  to  a  guest  works  miracles  with 
the  fare,  and  is  capable  of  turning  the  coarsest  food  to 
nectar  and  ambrosia." 

"A  welcome  you  shall  have,"  cried  Baucis,  "and 
likewise  a  little  honey  that  we  happen  to  have  left, 
and  a  bunch  of  purple  grapes  besides." 

"  Why,  Mother  Baucis,  it  is  a  feast ! "  exclaimed 
Quicksilver,  laughing,  "an  absolute  feast,  and  you  shall 
see  how  bravely  I  will  play  my  part  at  it!  I  think  I 
never  felt  hungrier  in  my  life," 

"  Mercy  on  us  !  "  whispered  Baucis  to  her  husband;  "  if 
the  young  man  has  such  a  terrible  appetite,  I  am  afraid 
there  will  not  be  half  enough  supper." 

They  all  went  into  the  cottage. 

And  now,  my  friends,  shall  I  tell  you  something 
that  will  make  you  open  your  eyes  very  wide  ?  It  is 
really  one  of  the  oddest  circumstances  in  the  whole  story. 
Quicksilver  had  set  his  staff  up  against  the  wall  of  the 
cottage.  Well,  when  its  master  entered  the  door,  leaving 
his  staff  behind,  what  should  it  do  but  immediately  spread 
its  little  wings,  and  go  hopping  and  fluttering  up  the 
doorsteps !  Tap,  tap,  went  the  staff  on  the  kitchen  floor, 
nor  did  it  rest  until  it  had  stood  itself  on  end,  with  the 
greatest  gravity,  beside  Quicksilver  s  chair.  Old  Philemon, 
however,  as  well  as  his  wife,  was  so  taken  up  in  attending 


^  147  d^ 

to  their  guests  that  no  notice  was  given  to  what  the  staff 
had  been  about. 

The  supper  was  so  exceedingly  small  that  Baucis  could 
not  help  wishing  that  their  appetites  had  not  been  quite 
so  large.  Why,  at  their  very  first  sitting  down,  the 
travellers  both  drank  off  all  the  milk  in  their  two  bowls 
at  one  draught. 

"A  little  more  milk,  kind  Mother  Baucis,  if  you 
please,"  said  Quicksilver.  "  The  day  has  been  hot,  and 
I  am  very  much  athirst." 

"Now,  my  dear  people,"  said  Baucis,  in  great  confusion, 
"  I  am  so  sorry  and  ashamed ;  but  the  truth  is  there  is 
hardly  a  drop  more  milk  in  the  pitcher.  0  husband, 
husband,  why  didn't  we  go  without  our  supper  ?  " 

"Why,  it  appears  to  me,"  cried  Quicksilver,  starting 
up  from  the  table  and  taking  the  pitcher  by  the  handle, 
"  it  really  appears  to  me  that  matters  are  not  quite  so  bad 
as  you  represent  them.  Here  is  certainly  more  milk  in 
the  pitcher." 

So  saying,  and  to  the  vast  astonishment  of  Baucis,  he 
proceeded  to  fill,  not  only  his  own  bowl,  but  his  companion's 
likewise,  from  the  pitcher  that  was  supposed  to  be  almost 
empty.  The  good  woman  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes. 
She  had  certainly  poured  out  nearly  all  the  milk,  and  had 
peeped  in  afterward  and  seen  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher 
as  she  set  it  down  upon  the  table. 

"But  I  am  old,"  thought  Baucis  to  herself,  "and  apt 


-«  148  9«- 

to  be  forgetful.  I  suppose  I  must  have  made  a  mistake. 
At  all  events,  the  pitcher  cannot  help  being  empty  now, 
after  filling  the  bowls  twice  over." 

"What  excellent  milk,"  observed  Quicksilver,  after 
quaffing  the  entire  contents  of  the  second  bowl.  "  Excuse 
me,  my  kind  hostess,  but  I  must  really  ask  you  for  a  little 
more." 

Now,  Baucis  had  seen,  as  plainly  as  she  could  see 
anything,  that  Quicksilver  had  turned  the  pitcher  upside 
down,  and  consequently  had  poured  out  every  drop  of 
milk  in  filling  the  last  bowl.  Of  course  there  could  not 
possibly  be  any  left. 

However,  in  order  to  let  him  know  precisely  how  the 
case  was,  she  lifted  the  pitcher,  and  made  a  gesture  as  if 
pouring  milk  into  Quicksilver's  bowl,  but  without  the 
remotest  idea  that  any  milk  would  stream  forth.  What 
was  her  surprise,  therefore,  when  such  an  abundant  cascade 
fell  bubbling  into  the  bowl  that  it  was  immediately  filled 
to  the  brim,  and  overflowed  upon  the  table. 

The  two  snakes  that  were  twisted  about  Quicksilver's 
staff  (but  neither  Baucis  nor  Philemon  happened  to  observe 
this  circumstance)  stretched  out  their  heads  and  began  to 
lap  up  the  spilt  milk. 

And  then  what  a  delicious  fragrance  the  milk  had  !  It 
seemed  as  if  Philemon's  cow  must  have  pastured  that  day 
on  the  richest  herbage  that  could  be  found  anywhere  in 
the  world. 


^  149  9«- 


THE  MIRACULOUS   PITCHER 


^  150  S«- 

"And  now  a  slice  of  your  brown  loaf,  Mother  Baucis," 
said  Quicksilver,  "  and  a  little  of  that  honey !  " 

Baucis  cut  him  a  slice  accordingly ;  and  though  the 
loaf,  when  she  and  her  husband  ate  of  it,  had  been  rather 
too  dry  and  crusty  to  be  palatable,  it  was  now  as  light  and 
moist  as  if  but  a  few  hours  out  of  the  oven.  Tasting  a 
crumb  which  had  fallen  on  the  table,  she  found  it  more 
delicious  than  bread  ever  was  before,  and  could  hardly 
believe  that  it  was  a  loaf  of  her  own  kneading  and  baking. 
Yet  what  other  loaf  could  it  possibly  be  ? 

But,  oh,  the  honey !  Its  color  was  that  of  the  purest 
and  most  transparent  gold ;  and  it  had  the  odor  of  a 
thousand  flowers,  but  of  such  flowers  as  never  grew  in 
an  earthly  garden,  and  to  seek  which  the  bees  must  have 
flown  high  above  the  clouds.  The  wonder  is,  that,  after 
alighting  on  a  flower-bed  of  such  fragrance,  they  should 
have  been  content  to  fly  down  again  to  their  hive  in 
Philemon's  garden.  Never  was  such  honey  tasted,  seen, 
or  smelled.  The  perfume  floated  around  the  kitchen,  and 
made  it  so  delightful  that,  had  you  closed  your  eyes,  you 
would  instantly  have  forgotten  the  low  ceiling  and  smoky 
walls,  and  have  fancied  yourself  in  an  arbor  with  celestial 
honeysuckle  creeping  over  it. 

Although  good  Mother  Baucis  was  a  simple  old  dame, 
she  could  not  but  think  that  there  was  something  rather  out 
of  the  common  way  in  all  that  had  been  going  on.  So, 
after  helping  the  guests  to   bread  and  honey,  and  lay- 


-^  151  B^ 

ing  a  bunch  of  grapes  by  each  of  their  plates,  she  sat  down 
by  Philemon,  and  told  him  what  she  had  seen,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  like  ? "  asked  she. 

"  No,  I  never  did,"  answered  Philemon,  with  a  smile. 
"And  I  rather  think,  my  dear  wife,  you  have  been  walk- 
ing about  in  a  sort  of  dream.  If  I  had  poured  out  the 
milk,  I  should  have  seen  through  the  business  at  once. 
There  happened  to  be  a  little  more  in  the  pitcher  than 
you  thought,  —  that  is  all." 

"  Ah,  husband,"  said  Baucis,  "  say  what  you  will,  these 
are  very  uncommon  people." 

"  Well,  well,"  replied  Philemon,  still  smiling, "  perhaps 
they  are.  They  certainly  do  look  as  if  they  had  seen  bet- 
ter days ;  and  I  am  heartily  glad  to  see  them  making  so 
comfortable  a  supper." 

Each  of  the  guests  had  now  taken  his  bunch  of  grapes 
upon  his  plate.  Baucis  (who  rubbed  her  eyes,  in  order  to 
see  more  clearly)  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  clusters  had 
grown  larger  and  richer,  and  that  each  grape  seemed  to 
be  on  the  point  of  bursting  with  ripe  juice.  It  was  a 
mystery  to  her  how  such  grapes  could  ever  have  grown 
on  the  old  stunted  vine  that  climbed  over  the  cottage 
wall. 

"  Very  admirable  grapes,  these ! "  observed  Quick- 
silver, as  he  swallowed  one  after  another  without  appar- 
ently diminishing  his  cluster.  "Pray,  my  good  host, 
whence  did  you  gather  them?" 


^  152  B«- 

"  From  my  own  vine,"  answered  Philemon.  "  You 
may  see  one  of  its  branches  twisting  across  the  window 
yonder.  But  wife  and  I  never  thought  the  grapes  very 
fine  ones." 

"I  never  tasted  better,"  said  the  guest.  "Another 
cup  of  this  delicious  milk,  if  you  please,  and  I  shall  then 
have  supped  better  than  a  prince." 

This  time  old  Philemon  bestirred  himself  and  took  up 
the  pitcher ;  for  he  was  curious  to  discover  whether  there 
was  any  reality  in  the  marvel  which  Baucis  had  whis- 
pered to  him.  On  taking  up  the  pitcher,  therefore,  he 
slyly  peeped  into  it,  and  was  fully  satisfied  that  it  con- 
tained not  so  much  as  a  single  drop.  All  at  once,  how- 
ever, he  beheld  a  little  white  fountain  which  gushed  up 
from  the  bottom  of  the  pitcher,  and  speedily  filled  it  to 
the  brim  with  foaming  and  deliciously  fragrant  milk.  It 
was  lucky  that  Philemon,  in  his  surprise,  did  not  drop  the 
miraculous  pitcher  from  his  hand. 

"Who  are  you,  wonder-working  strangers?"  cried  he, 
even  more  bewildered  than  his  wife  had  been. 

"  Your  guests,  my  good  Philemon,  and  your  friends," 
replied  the  elder  traveller,  in  his  mild,  deep  voice,  that 
had  something  at  once  sweet  and  awe-inspiring  in  it. 
"  Give  me  likewise  a  cup  of  milk ;  and  may  your  pitcher 
never  be  empty  for  kind  Baucis  and  yourself,  any  more 
than  for  the  needy  wayfarers !  " 


^  153  8«- 


Part  III 


century  ^ 
portal 
edifice 
majestic 


meagre 
inspired 
prosperity 
tranquil 


bewitched 
entreated 
persisted 
venerable 


perplexity 
requested 
vehemently 
inexhaustible 


The  supper  being  now  over,  the  strangers  requested  to 
be  shown  to  their  place  of  repose.  The  old  people  would 
gladly  have  talked  with  them  a  little  longer,  and  have 
expressed  the  wonder  which  they  felt,  and  their  delight 
at  finding  the  poor  and  meagre  supper  prove  so  much  bet- 
ter and  more  abundant  than  they  hoped.  But  the  elder 
traveller  had  inspired  them  with  such  reverence  that  they 
dared  not  ask  him  any  questions.  Philemon  drew  Quick- 
silver aside  and  inquired  how  a  fountain  of  milk  could 
have  got  into  an  old  earthen  pitcher,  and  this  latter  per- 
sonage pointed  to  his  staff. 

"  There  is  the  whole  mystery  of  the  affair,"  quoth 
Quicksilver;  "and  if  you  can  make  it  out  I'll  thank  you 
to  let  me  know.  I  can't  tell  what  to  make  of  my  staff. 
It  is  always  playing  such  odd  tricks  as  this ;  sometimes 
getting  me  a  supper,  and,  quite  as  often,  stealing  it  away. 
If  I  had  any  faith  in  such  nonsense,  I  should  say  that  the 
stick  is  bewitched." 

He  said  no  more,  but  looked  so  slyly  in  their  faces  that 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-«  154  ^ 

they  rather  fancied  he  was  laughing  at  them.  The  magic 
staff  went  hopping  at  his  heels  as  Quicksilver  quitted  the 
room.  When  left  alone  the  good  old  couple  spent  some 
time  in  conversation  about  the  events  of  the  evening,  and 
then  lay  down  on  the  floor  and  fell  fast  asleep.  They  had 
given  up  their  sleeping-room  to  the  guests,  and  had  no 
other  bed  for  themselves  save  these  planks,  which  I  wish 
had  been  as  soft  as  their  own  hearts. 

The  old  man  and  his  wife  were  stirring  betimes  in  the 
morning,  and  the  strangers  likewise  arose  with  the  sun, 
and  made  their  preparations  to  depart.  Philemon  hospi- 
tably entreated  them  to  remain  a  little  longer,  until  Baucis 
could  milk  the  cow  and  bake  a  cake  upon  the  hearth,  and 
perhaps  find  them  a  few  fresh  eggs  for  breakfast.  The 
guests,  however,  seemed  to  think  it  better  to  accomplish 
a  good  part  of  their  journey  before  the  heat  of  the  day 
should  come  on.  They  therefore  persisted  in  setting  out 
immediately,  but  asked  Philemon  and  Baucis  to  walk  forth 
with  them  a  short  distance  and  show  them  the  road  which 
they  were  to  take. 

"Ah  me!  well-a-day!"  exclaimed  Philemon,  when  they 
had  walked  a  little  way  from  their  door.  **•  If  our  neigh- 
bors only  knew  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  show  hospi- 
tality to  strangers,  they  would  tie  up  all  their  dogs,  and 
never  allow  their  children  to  fling  another  stone." 

"  It  is  a  sin  and  a  shame  for  them  to  behave  so  !  "  cried 
good  old  Baucis,  vehemently.     "And  I  mean  to  go  this 


-«155  8€>- 
very  day,  and  tell  some  of  them  what  wicked  people  they 


are !  " 


"I  fear,"  remarked  Quicksilver,  slyly  smiling,  "that 
you  will  find  none  of  them  at  home." 

"  When  men  do  not  feel  toward  the  humblest  stranger 
as  if  he  were  his  brother,"  said  the  elder  traveller,  in  tones 
so  deep  that  they  sounded  like  those  of  an  organ,  "  they 
are  unworthy  to  exist  on  earth,  which  was  created  as  the 
abode  of  a  great  human  brotherhood  !  " 

"  And,  by  the  way,  my  dear  friends,"  cried  Quicksilver, 
with  the  liveliest  look  of  fun  and  mischief  in  his  eyes, 
"  where  is  this  same  village  that  you  talk  about  ?  On 
which  side  of  us  does  it  lie  ?  Methinks  I  do  not  see  it 
hereabouts." 

Philemon  and  his  wife  turned  toward  the  valley, 
where  at  sunset,  only  the  day  before,  they  had  seen  the 
meadows,  the  houses,  the  gardens,  the  clumps  of  trees,  the 
wide,  green-margined  street,  the  children  playing  in  it, 
and  all  the  tokens  of  business,  enjoyment,  and  prosperity. 

But  wliat  was  their  astonishment !  There  was  no 
longer  any  appearance  of  a  village !  Even  the  fertile 
valley  in  the  hollow  of  which  it  lay  had  ceased  to  have 
existence.  In  its  stead  they  beheld  the  broad  blue  surface 
of  a  lake  which  filled  the  great  basin  of  the  valley  from 
bi'im  to  brim,  and  reflected  the  surrounding  hills  in  its 
bosom,  with  as  tranquil  an  image  as  if  it  had  been  there 
ever  since  the  creation  of  the  world.     Then  a  little  breeze 


-^  156  8«- 

sprang  up  and  caused  the  water  to  dance,  glitter  and 
sparkle  in  the  early  sunbeams,  and  to  dash  with  a  pleasant 
rippling  noise  against  the  shore. 

The  lake  seemed  so  strangely  familiar  that  the  old 
couple  were  greatly  perplexed,  and  felt  as  if  they  could 
only  have  been  dreaming  about  a  village  having  lain 
there.  But  the  next  moment  they  remembered  the  van- 
ished dwellings,  and  the  faces  and  characters  of  the  in- 
habitants, far  too  distinctly  for  a  dream.  The  village  had 
been  there  yesterday  and  now  it  was  gone  ! 

"  Alas ! "  cried  these  kind-hearted  old  people,  ''  what 
has  become  of  our  poor  neighbors  ? " 

"  They  exist  no  longer  as  men  and  women,"  said  the 
eJder  traveller,  in  his  grand  and  deep  voice,  while  a  roll  of 
thunder  seemed  to  echo  it  in  the  distance.  ^'  There  was 
neither  use  nor  beauty  in  such  a  life  as  theirs.  They  re- 
tained no  image  of  the  better  life  in  their  bosoms ;  there- 
fore the  lake  that  was  of  old  has  spread  itself  forth  again 
to  reflect  the  sky." 

"  As  for  you,  good  Philemon,"  continued  the  elder 
traveller,  —  "  and  you,  kind  Baucis,  —  you,  with  your 
scanty  means,  have  mingled  so  much  heartfelt  hospitality 
with  your  entertainment  of  the  homeless  stranger,  that 
the  milk  became  an  inexhaustible  fount  of  nectar,  and  the 
brown  loaf  and  the  honey  were  ambrosia.  You  have  done 
well,  my  dear  old  friends.  Wherefore,  request  whatever 
favor  you  have  most  at  heart  and  it  is  granted." 


^  157  Be- 

Philemon  and  Baucis  looked  at  one  another,  and  then, 
—  I  know  not  which  of  the  two  it  was  who  spoke,  but 
that  one  uttered  the  desire  of  both  their  hearts. 

"  Let  us  live  together  while  we  live,  and  leave  the 
world  at  the  same  instant  when  we  die !  " 

"Be  it  so!"  replied  the  stranger,  with  majestic  kind- 
ness.    "  Now  look  toward  your  cottage." 

They  did  so.  What  was  their  surprise  on  beholding  a 
tall  edifice  of  white  marble,  with  a  wide-open  portal,  on  the 
spot  where  their  humble  residence  had  stood. 

"  There  is  your  home,"  said  the  stranger.  "  Exercise 
your  hospitality  in  yonder  palace  as  freely  as  in  the  poor 
hut  to  which  you  welcomed  us  last  evening." 

The  old  people  fell  on  their  knees  to  thank  him ;  but, 
behold !  neither  he  nor  Quicksilver  were  there. 

So  Philemon  and  Baucis  took  up  their  residence  in  the 
marble  palace,  and  spent  their  time  in  making  everybody 
happy  and  comfortable  who  happened  to  pass  that  way. 
The  milk  pitcher  retained  its  marvellous  quality  of  being 
never  empty  when  it  was  desirable  to  have  it  full. 

Thus  the  old  couple  lived  in  their  palace  a  very  great 
while,  and  grew  older  and  older,  and  very  old  indeed.  At 
length,  however,  there  came  a  summer  morning  when 
Philemon  and  Baucis  failed  to  make  their  appearance,  as 
on  other  mornings,  with  one  hospitable  smile  overspreading 
both  their  faces,  to  invite  the  guests  of  over  night  to 
breakfast.     The  guests  searched  everywhere  in  the  spa- 


-^  158  8«- 

cious  palace,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  After  a  great  deal  of 
perplexity  they  espied  in  front  of  the  portal  two  venerable 
trees,  which  no  one  could  remember  to  have  seen  there 
the  day  before.  Yet  there  they  stood,  with  their  roots 
fastened  deep  into  the  soil,  and  a  huge  breadth  of  foliage 
overshadowing  the  whole  front  of  the  edifice. 

While  the  guests  were  marvelling  how  these  trees  that 
must  have  required  a  century  to  grow  could  have  come  to 
be  so  tall  and  venerable  in  a  single  night,  a  breeze  sprang 
up  and  set  their  boughs  astir.  Then  there  was  a  deep 
murmur  in  the  air,  as  if  the  two  trees  were  speaking. 

''  I  am  old  Philemon !  "  murmured  one. 

'^  I  am  old  Baucis ! "  murmured  the  other. 

But  as  the  breeze  grew  stronger,  the  trees  both  spoke 
at  once,  —  "  Philemon  !  Baucis  !  Baucis  !  Philemon  !  "  — 
as  if  one  were  both  and  both  were  one,  and  talking  to- 
gether in  the  depths  of  their  mutual  heart.  And  oh, 
what  a  hospitable  shade  did  they  fling  around  them. 
Whenever  a  wayfarer  paused  beneath  it,  he  heard  a  pleas- 
ant whisper  of  the  leaves  above  his  head,  and  wondered 
how  the  sound  could  so  much  resemble  words  like  these  :  — 

"  Welcome,  welcome,  dear  traveller,  welcome  !  " 

Some  kind  soul,  that  knew  what  would  have  pleased 
Baucis  and  Philemon  best,  built  a  circular  bench  round 
both  their  trunks,  where  the  weary  and  hungry  and  thirsty 
could  repose  themselves  and  quaff  milk  abundantly  out  of 

the  miraculous  pitcher.  -  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 


-^  159  »- 


OUR   COUNTRY  NEIGHBORS  i 


retreat  ^ 

occupant 

permanent 

reluctantly 

surveyor 

anaconda 

serpentine 

enchanted 

mysterious 

ravages 

reflectively 

conservatory 

copperhead 

nocturnal 

transformed 

occasionally 

We  have  just  built  our  house  in  an  out-of-the-way  place, 
on  the  bank  of  a  river,  and  under  the  shade  of  some  trees 
which  are  all  that  remain  of  an  ancient  forest.  The 
checkerberry  and  partridge-plum,  with  their  glossy  green 
leaves  and  scarlet  berries,  still  carpet  the  ground  in  the 
deep  shadows  of  the  wood ;  and  the  prince' s-pine  and 
other  evergreens  declare  its  native  wildness,  —  for  these 
are  the  children  of  the  wild  woods,  that  never  come  after 
plough  and  harrow  have  once  broken  the  soil. 

When  we  tried  to  find  a  spot  for  our  house,  we  had  to 
get  a  surveyor  to  go  before  us  and  cut  a  path  through  the 
dense  underbrush  that  was  laced  together  in  a  network  of 
boughs  and  leaves,  and  grew  so  high  as  to  overtop  our 
heads.  Where  the  house  stands,  four  or  five  great  oaks 
and  chestnuts  had  to  be  cut  away  to  let  it  in  ;  and  now  it 
stands  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  the  edges  of  which  are 
still  overhung  with  old  forest  trees,  chestnuts  and  oaks, 
which  look  at  themselves  in  the  glassy  stream. 

1  See  note  on  page  262. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-«  160  8«- 

A  little  knoll  near  the  house  was  chosen  for  a  garden 
spot ;  a  dense,  dark  mass  of  trees  above,  of  bushes  in  mid- 
air, and  of  all  sorts  of  ferns  and  wild  flowers  and  creeping 
vines  on  the  ground.  All  these  had  to  be  cleared  out, 
and  a  dozen  great  trees  cut  down  and  dragged  away  to  a 
neighboring  sawmill,  there  to  be  transformed  into  boards 
to  finish  our  house. 

Then,  bringing  a  machine,  such  as  might  be  used  to 
pull  a  giant's  tooth,  with  ropes,  pulleys,  oxen  and  men, 
and  might  and  main,  we  pulled  out  the  stumps,  with 
their  great  prongs  and  their  network  of  roots  and  fibres; 
and  then,  alas !  we  had  to  begin  with  all  the  pretty,  wild, 
lovely  bushes,  and  the  checkerberries  and  ferns  and  wild 
blackberry  and  huckleberry  bushes,  and  dig  them  up 
remorselessly,  that  we  might  plant  our  corn  and  squashes. 
And  so  we  found  a  house  and  garden  in  the  heart  of  the 
wild  woods,  about  a  mile  from  the  city. 

People  said  it  was  a  lonely  place,  and  far  from  neigh- 
bors,—  by  which  they  meant  that  it  was  a  long  way  for 
them  to  come  to  see  us.  But  we  soon  found  that  whoever 
goes  into  the  woods  to  live  finds  neighbors  of  a  new  kind, 
and  some  to  whom  it  is  rather  hard  to  become  accustomed. 

For  instance,  on  a  fine  day  early  in  April,  as  we  were  on 
our  way  to  superintend  the  building  of  our  house,  w^e  were 
startled  by  a  striped  snake  who  raised  himself  to  look  at  us 
with  his  little  bright  eyes,  and  put  out  his  red  forked 
tongue.      There  is  no  more  harm  in  these  little  garden 


-^  161  9«- 

snakes  than  there  is  in  a  robin  or  a  squirrel ;  they  are 
poor,  peaceable,  timid  creatures,  which  could  not  do  any 
harm  if  they  would.  So  we  tried  to  turn  out  of  our  path 
into  a  tangle  of  bushes;  and  there,  instead  of  one,  we 
found  four  snakes.  We  turned  to  the  other  side  and 
there  were  two  more.  In  short,  everywhere  we  looked, 
the  dry  leaves  were  rustling  and  coiling  with  them ;  and 
we  were  in  despair. 

In  vain  we  said  that  they  were  harmless  as  kittens, 
and  tried  to  persuade  ourselves  that  their  bright  eyes  were 
pretty,  and  that  their  serpentine  movements  were  in  the 
exact  line  of  beauty.  We  could  not  help  remembering, 
however,  their  family  name  and  connections ;  we  thought 
of  those  disagreeable  gentlemen,  the  anacondas,  the  rattle- 
snakes, and  the  copperheads.  But  our  troubles  in  this 
direction  were  soon  over.  The  snakes  had  crawled  out  of 
their  holes  to  warm  themselves  in  the  bright  spring  sun, 
and  after  a  few  days  they  were  rare  visitors,  though  now 
and  then  one  appeared. 

Another  of  our  wild  woodland  neighbors  made  us  some 
trouble.  It  was  no  other  than  a  woodchuck,  whose  hole 
we  had  often  wondered  at  when  we  were  scrambling 
through  the  underbrush  after  the  spring  ploughing.  The 
hole  was  about  the  size  of  a  peck  measure,  and  had  two 
openings  about  six  feet  apart.  The  occupant  was  a 
gentleman  we  never  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing,  but  we 
soon   learned  of  his  existence  from  his  ravages  in  our 


■^  162  8«- 

garden.  He  had  a  taste,  it  appears,  for  the  very  things 
we  wished  to  eat  ourselves,  and  helped  himself  without 
asking. 

We  had  a  row  of  fine,  crisp  heads  of  lettuce,  which 
were  the  pride  of  our  gardening,  and  out  of  which  he 
would  from  day  to  day  select  for  his  table  just  the  plants 
which  we  had  marked  for  ours.  He  also  nibbled  our 
young  beans ;  and  so  at  last  we  were  reluctantly  obliged 
to  let  John  Gardiner  set  a  trap  for  him. 

Our  house  had  a  central  court  on  the  southern  side, 
into  which  looked  the  library,  dining  room,  and  front  hall, 
as  well  as  several  of  the  upper  chambers.  It  was  designed 
to  be  closed  in  with  glass,  to  serve  as  a  conservatory  in 
winter ;  and  meanwhile  we  had  filled  it  with  splendid 
plumy  ferns,  taken  up  out  of  the  neighboring  wood.  In 
the  centre  was  a  fountain  surrounded  by  stones,  shells, 
mosses,  and  various  water  plants.  We  had  bought  three 
little  goldfishes  to  swim  in  the  basin ;  and  the  spray,  as  it 
rose  in  the  air  and  rippled  back  into  the  water,  was  the 
pleasantest  possible  sound  on  a  hot  afternoon. 

We  used  to  lie  on  the  sofa  in  the  hall,  and  look  into 
the  court  and  fancy  that  we  saw  some  scene  of  fairy -land, 
with  water  sprites  coming  up  from  the  fountain.  Sud- 
denly a  new-comer  presented  himself,  —  no  other  than  an 
immense  frog,  that  had  hopped  up  from  the  river,  appar- 
ently with  a  view  of  making  a  permanent  settlement  in 
and  about  our  fountain.     He  was  to  be  seen,  often  for 


^  163  ^ 

hours,  sitting  reflectively  on  the  edge  of  it,  beneath  the 
broad  shadow  of  the  calla  leaves. 

We  gave  him  the  name  of  Unke,  and  declared  that  he 
showed  his  good  taste  by  coming  to  live  in  our  conserva- 
tory. We  even  defended  his  personal  appearance,  praised 
the  green  coat  which  he  wore  on  his  back,  his  gray  vest 
and  solemn  gold  spectacles.  ^'  Who  knows,  after  all,"  we 
said,  "  but  that  he  is  a  beautiful  young  prince,  enchanted 
by  some  cruel  witch,  and  obliged  to  live  in  the  water  until 
the  princess  comes  to  drop  a  golden  ball  into  the  fountain, 
and  so  give  him  his  freedom  and  an  opportunity  to  marry 
her,  after  the  manner  of  the  German  fairy  tales  ?  " 

Of  other  woodland  neighbors  there  were  some  which 
we  saw  occasionally.  The  shores  of  the  river  were  lined, 
here  and  there,  with  the  homes  of  the  muskrats.  There 
were  also  owls,  whose  nests  were  high  up  in  some  of  the 
old  chestnut  trees.  Often  in  the  lonely  hours  of  the  night 
we  could  hear  them  gibbering,  with  a  sort  of  wild,  hollow 
laugh,  among  the  distant  trees. 

One  tenant  of  the  woods  made  us  some  trouble  in  the 
autumn.  It  was  a  little  flying-squirrel,  who  made  excur- 
sions into  our  house  in  the  night,  coming  down  the  chim- 
ney into  the  chambers,  rustling  about  among  the  clothes, 
cracking  nuts  or  nibbling  at  morsels  of  anything  that  suited 
his  fancy.  For  a  long  time  the  inmates  of  the  rooms 
were  awakened  in  the  night  by  mysterious  noises,  thumps 
and  rappings,  and  so  lighted  candles,  and  searched  in  vain 


-«  164  S«- 

to  find  whence  they  came  ;  for  the  moment  any  movement 
was  made,  the  rogue  hurried  up  the  chimney. 

But  one  night  the  little  fellow  jumped  in  at  the  win- 
dow of  a  room  which  had  no  fireplace ;  and  the  occupant 
shut  the  window,  without  suspecting  that  she  had  cut  off 
the  retreat  of  any  of  her  woodland  neighbors.  The  next 
morning  she  was  startled  by  what  she  thought  was  a  gray 
rat  running  past  her  bed.  She  rose  to  pursue  him,  when 
he  ran  up  the  wall,  and  clung  against  the  plastering, 
showing  himself  very  plainly  to  be  a  gray  flying-squirrel. 
He  was  chased  into  the  conservatory,  where  he  flew  out 
of  an  open  window  and  made  away  for  his  native  woods, 
thus  putting  an  end  to  many  fears  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
nocturnal  rappings. 

The  autumn  months  are  now  coming  on  (for  it  is  Octo- 
ber while  I  write),  the  flowers  are  dying  night  by  night 
as  the  frosts  grow  heavier,  the  squirrels  are  racing  about, 
full  of  business,  getting  in  their  winter's  supply  of  nuts ; 
everything  now  is  active  and  busy  among  our  country 
neighbors.  In  a  cottage  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
us,  a  whole  family  of  squirrels  have  made  the  discovery 
that  a  house  is  warmer  in  winter  than  the  best  hollow 
tree,  and  so  have  gone  into  a  chink  between  the  walls, 
where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Squirrel  can  often  be  heard  late  at 
night  chattering  about  the  arrangement  of  their  household 
goods  fpr  the  coming  season. 

—  Harribt  Bekchkr  Stowk. 


-«  165  8€- 

ROBIN    REDBREAST 

Good-by,  good-by  to  Summer ! 

For  Summer's  nearly  done ; 
The  garden  smiling  faintly, 

Cool  breezes  in  the  sun ; 
Our  thrushes  now  are  silent, 

Our  swallows  flown  away,  — 
But  Robin's  here  with  coat  of  brown, 

And  ruddy  breast-knot  gay. 
Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

0  Robin  dear ! 
Robin  sings  so  sweetly 

In  the  falling  of  the  year. 

Bright  yellow,  red  and  orange. 

The  leaves  come  down  in  hosts ; 
The  trees  are  Indian  princes. 

But  soon  they'll  turn  to  ghosts ; 
The  scanty  pears  and  apples 

Hang  russet  on  the  bough ; 
It's  Autumn,  Autumn,  Autumn  late, 

'Twill  soon  be  winter  now. 
Robin,  Robin  Redbreast, 

0  Robin  dear ! 
And  what  will  this  poor  Robin  do  ? 

For  pinching  days  are  near. 

—  William  Allinqham. 


-»S  166  8«- 

THE   FRINGED   GENTIAN 

Thou  blossom  bright  with  autumn  dew, 
And  covered  with  the  heaven's  own  blue, 
That  openest  when  the  quiet  light 
Succeeds  the  keen  and  frosty  night. 

Thou  comest  not  when  violets  lean 
O'er  wandering  brooks  and  springs  unseen, 
Or  columbines,  in  purple  dressed. 
Nod  o'er  the  ground-bird's  hidden  nest. 

Thou  waitest  late,  and  com'st  alone. 
When  woods  are  bare  and  birds  are  flown, 
And  frosts  and  shortening  days  portend 
The  aged  year  is  near  his  end. 

Then  dost  thy  sweet  and  quiet  eye 
Look  through  its  fringes  to  the  sky, 
Bhie,  —  blue  —  as  if  that  sky  let  fall 
A  flower  from  its  cerulean  wall. 

I  would  that  thus,  when  I  shall  see 
The  hour  of  death  draw  near  to  me, 
Hope,  blossoming  within  my  heart. 
May  look  to  heaven  as  I  depart. 

—  Wll^LIAM  CULLBN  BRYANT. 


^  167  Q^ 
TOM   BROWN  AT   RUGBY  i 


resent  ^ 

close 

introduced 

pursuit 

matron 

patronizing 

assented 

vigorous 

astonishment 

residence 

creditably 

notwithstanding 

'^And  so  here's  Rugby,  sir,  at  last,  and  you'll  be  in 
plenty  of  time  for  dinner  at  the  school-house,  as  I  told 
you,"  said  the  guard,  pulling  his  horn  out  of  its  case,  and 
tootle-tooing  away,  while  the  coachman  shook  up  his 
horses,  and  carried  them  along  the  side  of  the  school 
close,  past  the  school  gates,  and  down  the  street  to  the 
Spread  Eagle. 

Tom's  heart  beat  quickly  as  he  passed  the  great  school 
field,  or  close,  with  its  noble  elms,  in  which  several  games 
of  football  were  going  on,  and  tried  to  take  in  at  once  the 
long  line  of  gray  buildings,  beginning  with  the  chapel  and 
ending  with  the  residence  of  the  head  master,  where  the 
great  flag  was  lazily  waving  from  the  highest  round 
tower.  And  he  began  already  to  be  proud  of  being  a 
Rugby  boy,  as  he  passed  the  school  gates  and  saw  the 
boys  standing  there,  looking  as  if  the  town  belonged  to 
them,  and  nodding  in  a  familiar  manner  to  the  coachman, 
as  if  any  one  of  them  would  be  quite  equal  to  getting  on 
the  box  and  driving  the  horses  as  well  as  he. 

1  See  note  on  page  262. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


^  168  8«- 

One  of  the  young  heroes,  however,  ran  out  from  the 
rest,  and  scrambled  up  behind,  where,  having  righted  him- 
self and  nodded  to  the  guard,  he  turned  to  Tom,  and, 
after  looking  him  over  for  a  minute,  began,  "  I  say,  is 
your  name  Brown  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  in  astonishment,  glad  however  to 
meet  some  one  already  who  seemed  to  know  him. 

"  Ah,  I  thought  so ;  you  know  my  aunt,  Miss  East ; 
she  lives  somewhere  down  your  way  in  Berkshire.  She 
wrote  to  me  that  you  were  coming  to-day,  and  asked  me 
to  look  out  for  you." 

Tom  was  somewhat  inclined  to  resent  the  patronizing 
air  of  his  new  friend  —  a  boy  of  just  about  his  own  height 
and  age  ;  but  he  could  not  help  admiring  and  envying  him, 
especially  when  he  began  arranging  with  one  of  the  porters, 
whom  he  called  Cooey,  to  carry  Tom's  luggage  up  to  the 
school-house  for  sixpence. 

"  And  remember,  Cooey,  it  must  be  there  in  ten  min- 
utes or  no  more  w^ork  from  me.  Come  along.  Brown." 
And  away  goes  the  young  lad,  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  and  Tom  at  his  side. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  Cooey,  touching  his  hat,  with 
a  laugh  and  a  wink  at  his  companions. 

East  took  delight  in  his  character  of  guide.  He  led 
Tom  through  the  great  gates,  where  there  were  now  only 
two  or  three  boys.  They  asked  him  the  questions  that 
were  asked  of  all   new  boys  — "  What  is   your   name  ? 


^  169  ^ 

Where  do  you  come  from?  How  old  are  you?  Where 
do  you  board  ?  "  and  "  What  form  are  you  in  ?  "  —  and  so 
they  passed  on  through  the  yard  and  into  the  matron's 
room,  where  Tom  was  introduced  and  told  to  leave  the 
key  of  his  trunk. 

Then  East  marched  him  off  into  the  school  yard  again, 
and  began  showing  him  the  schools,  and  examining  him 
as  to  his  previous  lessons  to  see  if  they  could  be  in  the 
same  form  and  learn  their  lessons  together. 

''  And  now  come  in  and  see  my  study ;  we  shall  have 
just  time  before  dinner." 

Tom  followed  his  guide  through  the  school-house  hall, 
which  opens  into  the  yard.  It  is  a  room  thirty  feet 
long,  with  two  tables  running  the  whole  length,  and 
two  large  fireplaces  at  the  side.  Several  boys  were  stand- 
ing before  one  of  these  fires,  and  they  shouted  to  East  to 
stop ;  but  he  hurried  along  with  Tom,  and  landed  him  in 
a  long,  dark  passage  with  a  fireplace  at  the  end  of  it  and 
small  rooms  opening  on  each  side. 

Into  one  of  these  East  pushed  Tom,  and  then,  jumping 
in  himself,  he  slammed  and  bolted  the  door  behind  them, 
in  case  of  pursuit  from  the  hall. 

Tom  had  not  been  prepared  for  separate  rooms,  and 
was  not  a  little  astonished  and  delighted  with  the  study 
in  question.  It  was  certainly  not  very  large,  being  about 
six  feet  long  by  four  broad,  but  it  looked  very  comfort- 
able, Tom  thought. 


-^  170  Q^ 

The  space  under  the  window  was  occupied  by  a  square 
table  covered  with  a  red  and  blue  checked  table-cloth ;  a 
hard-seated  sofa  covered  with  red  occupied  one  side,  run- 
ning up  to  the  end,  and  making  a  seat  for  one,  or,  by 
sitting  close,  for  two,  at  the  table ;  and  a  stout  wooden 
chair  a&rded  a  seat  for  another  boy,  so  that  three  could 
sit  and  work  together.  Over  the  door  was  a  row  of 
hat  pegs,  and  on  each  side  book-cases  with  cupboards  at 
the  bottom ;  shelves  and  cupboards  being  filled  with 
school-books,  a  cup  or  two,  a  mouse-trap,  brass  candle- 
sticks, leathern  straps,  a  bag,  and  some  curious  articles, 
which  puzzled  Tom  until  his  friend  explained  that  they 
were  climbing  irons,  and  showed  their  use.  A  cricket  bat 
and  small  fishing  rod  stood  in  the  corner. 

This  was  the  residence  of  East  and  another  boy  in  the 
same  form,  and  had  more  interest  for  Tom  than  Windsor 
Castle  or  any  other  residence  in  the  British  Isles.  For 
was  he  not  about  to  become  joint  owner  of  a  similar 
home,  the  first  place  which  he  could  call  his  own  ? 

^'  And  I  shall  have  a  study  like  this  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  of  course,  you'll  be  chummed  with  some  fellow 
on  Monday,  and  you  can  sit  here  till  then." 

"  What  nice  places." 

''They're  well  enough,"  answered  East,  "only  very 
cold  at  night  sometimes.  Gower  —  that's  my  chum  — 
and  I  make  a  fire  with  paper  on  the  floor  after  supper 
generally,  only  that  makes  it  so  smoky." 


-98  171  8«- 

A  quarter  past  one  now  struck,  and  the  bell  began 
tolling  for  dinner,  so  they  went  into  the  hall  and  took 
their  places,  Tom  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  second  table, 
next  to  the  tutor,^and  East  a  few  paces  higher.  And 
now  Tom  for  the  first  time  saw  his  future  school-fellows 
in  a  body.  In  they  came,  some  hot  and  ruddy  from 
football  or  long  walks,  some  pale  and  chilly  from  hard 
reading  in  their  studies.  A  large  man,  whom  Tom  took 
for  a  master,  began  calling  over  the  names,  while  the 
meat  was  being  rapidly  carved  on  a  third  table  in  the 
corner. 

Tom's  turn  came  last,  and  meanwhile  he  was  all  eyes, 
looking  first  with  awe  at  the  great  man  who  sat  close  to 
him,  and  was  helped  first,  and  who  read  a  hard-looking 
book  all  the  time  he  was  eating ;  and  when  he  got  up  and 
walked  off  to  the  fire,  at  the  small  boys  round  him,  some 
of  whom  were  reading,  and  the  rest  talking  in  whispers 
to  one  another.  However,  notwithstanding  his  curiosity, 
he  managed  to  make  a  capital  dinner  by  the  time  the  big 
man  called  "  Stand  up !  "  and  said  grace. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  and  Tom  had  been  ques- 
tioned by  such  of  his  neighbors  as  were  curious  as  to  his 
birth,  parentage,  education,  and  other  like  matters.  East 
proposed  having  a  look  at  the  close,  which  Tom  gladly 
assented  to,  and  they  went  out  through  the  yard  and  into 
the  great  playground. 

"  That's  the  chapel,  you  see,"  said  East,  "  and  all  this 


^  172  Q^ 

part  where  we  are  is  the  little-side  ground,  right  up  to  the 
trees,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  trees  is  the  big- side 
ground.  But,  I  say,  it's  awfully  cold,  let's  have  a  run 
across,"  and  away  went  East,  Tom  close  behind  him. 

East  was  evidently  trying  to  do  his  best,  and  Tom, 
who  was  proud  of  his  running  and  anxious  to  show  his 
friend  that  although  he  was  a  new  boy  he  was  not  a 
baby,  ran  as  hard  as  he  could.  Across  the  close  they 
went,  each  doing  the  very  best  he  could,  and  there  wasn't 
a  yard  between  them  when  they  stopped  at  the  other 
side. 

"  I  say,"  said  East,  as  soon  as  he  caught  his  breath, 
'^  you  run  pretty  well  for  a  new  boy.  Well,  I'm  as  warm 
as  toast  now.  Hurrah  !  Here's  the  punt-about  —  come 
and  try  your  hand  at  a  kick." 

The  punt-about  is  a  practice  ball,  which  is  brought  out 
and  kicked  about  from  one  boy  to  another  before  roll-call 
and  dinner,  and  at  other  odd  times.  They  joined  the 
boys  who  had  brought  it  out,  and  Tom  had  the  pleasure 
of  trying  his  skill  at  kicking  it. 

Presently  more  boys  came  out  and  more  balls 
were  sent  for.  The  crowd  thickened  as  three  o'clock 
approached ;  and  when  the  hour  struck,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  boys  were  hard  at  work.  Then  the  balls  were  held, 
the  master  of  the  week  came  down  in  cap  and  gown  to 
roll-call,  and  the  whole  school  of  three  hundred  boys 
swept  into  the  big  school  to  answer  to  their  names. 

—  Thomas  Hughes. 


-«  173  ^ 


HARE  AND    HOUNDS  i 


senior  ^ 

turnpike 

recording 

vantage 

collapse 

grievances 

prophecy 

obedience 

redoubtable 

incident 

sumptuous 

superfluous 

Tom  soon  gained  the  character  of  a  good-natured, 
willing  boy,  who  was  ready  to  do  a  kindness  for  any  one. 
In  all  the  games  he  joined  with  all  his  heart,  and  soon 
became  well  versed  in  the  mysteries  of  football,  by  con- 
tinued practice  at  the  school-house  little-side,  which  played 
daily. 

The  only  incident  worth  recording  here,  however,  was 
his  first  run  at  hare  and  hounds.  On  the  last  Tuesday  but 
one  of  the  half-year  he  was  passing  through  the  hall  after 
dinner,  when  he  was  hailed  with  shouts  from  Taylor  and 
several  other  boys  who  were  seated  at  one  of  the  long 
tables,  the  chorus  of  which  was,  "  Come  and  help  us  tear 
up  scent." 

Tom  approached  the  table  in  obedience  to  the  mys- 
terious summons,  always  ready  to  help,  and  found  the 
party  engaged  in  tearing  up  old  newspapers,  copy-books, 
and  magazines  into  small  pieces  with  which  they  were  fill- 
ing four  large  canvas  bags. 

1  See  note  on  page  262. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  174  8«- 

"  It's  the  turn  of  our  house  to  find  scent  for  big-side 
hare  and  hounds,"  explained  Taylor;  "tear  away,  there's 
no  time  to  lose  before  roll-call." 

"  I  think  it's  a  great  shame,"  said  another  small  boy, 
"to  have  such  a  hard  run  for  the  last  day." 

"  Which  run  is  it  ?  "  asked  Taylor. 

"  Oh,  the  Barby  run,  I  hear,"  answered  the  other ; 
"  nine  miles  at  least,  and  hard  ground ;  no  chance  of  get- 
ting in  at  the  finish  unless  you  are  a  first-rate  runner." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  try,"  said  Taylor,  "if  it  is  the 
last  run  of  the  half-year." 

"  I  should  like  to  try,  too,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well,  then,  leave  your  waistcoat  behind,  and  listen  at 
the  door  after  roll-call,  and  you'll  hear  where  the  meet  is." 

After  roll-call,  sure  enough,  there  were  two  boys  at  the 
door  calling  out,  "  Big-side  hare  and  hounds  meet  at  White 
Hall ; "  and  Tom,  having  girded  himself  with  a  leather 
strap,  and  left  all  superfluous  clothing  behind,  set  off  for 
White  Hall,  with  East,  whom  he  had  persuaded  to  join, 
notwithstanding  his  prophecy  that  they  could  never  get  in 
at  the  end,  as  it  was  the  hardest  run  of  the  year. 

At  the  meet  they  found  sQme  forty  or  fifty  boys,  and 
Tom  felt  sure,  from  having  seen  many  of  them  run  at 
football,  that  he  and  East  were  more  likely  to  get  in  at 
the  finish  than  they. 

After  a  few  minutes'  waiting,  two  well-known  runners, 
chosen  for  the  hares,  buckled  on  the  four  bags  filled  with 


-^  175  8«- 

scent,  compared  their  watches  with  those  of  young  Brooke 
and  Thome,  and  started  off  at  a  long  swinging  trot  across 
the  fields  in  the  direction  of  Barby. 

Then  the  hounds  clustered  round  Thorne,  who  ex- 
plained shortly,  "  They  are  to  have  six  minutes'  start. 
We  run  to  the  Inn,  and  every  one  who  comes  in  within  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  of  the  hares  will  be  counted,  if  he  has 
been  round  Barby  church."  Then  comes  a  pause,  the 
watches  are  pocketed,  and  the  pack  is  led  through  the 
gateway  into  the  field  which  the  hares  had  first  crossed. 
Here  they  break  into  a  trot,  scattering  over  the  field  to 
find  the  first  traces  of  the  scent  which  the  hares  throw  out 
as  they  go  along. 

The  old  hounds  make  straight  for  the  best  points,  and 
in  a  minute  a  cry  of  "forward"  comes  from  one  of  them, 
and  the  whole  pack  quicken  their  pace  for  the  spot,  while 
the  boy  who  hit  the  scent  first,  and  two  or  three  nearest 
to  him,  are  over  the  first  fence,  and  hurrying  along  the 
hedgerow  in  the  long  grass  beyond.  The  rest  of  the  pack 
rush  at  the  gap  already  made,  and  scramble  through, 
jostling  one  another. 

"Forward"  again  before  they  are  half  through;  the 
pace  quickens  into  a  sharp  run,  the  tail  hounds  all  hurry- 
ing to  catch  up  with  the  lucky  leaders.  They  are  gallant 
hares,  and  the  scent  lies  thick  across  another  meadow  and 
into  a  ploughed  field,  where  the  pace  begins  to  tell;  and 
then  over  a  hedge  with  a  ditch  on  the  other  side,  and 


-^  lie  s«- 

down  a  large  pasture  studded  with  old  thorns,  which 
slopes  down  to  the  first  brook.  The  brook  is  a  small  one, 
and  the  scent  lies  right  ahead  up  the  opposite  slope,  and 
as  thick  as  ever,  not  a  turn  or  a  check  to  favor  the  tail 
hounds,  who  strain  on,  now  trailing  in  a  long  line,  many 
a  youngster  beginning  to  drag  his  legs  heavily,  and  feel 
his  heart  beat  like  a  hammer. 

Tom,  East,  and  Taylor  had  a  good  start,  and  are  well 
up  for  such  young  lads,  and  after  rising  the  slope  and 
crossing  the  next  field,  find  themselves  up  with  the  lead- 
ing hounds,  who  have  overrun  the  scent  and  are  coming 
back.  They  have  come  a  mile  and  a  half  in  eleven  min- 
utes, a  pace  which  shows  that  it  is  the  last  day.  About 
twenty-five  of  the  original  starters  are  left,  the  rest  hav- 
ing already  given  in ;  the  leaders  are  busy  making  casts 
into  the  fields  on  the  left  and  right,  and  the  others  are 
trying  to  catch  their  breath. 

Then  comes  the  cry  of  '^  forward  "  again,  from  young 
Brooke,  from  the  extreme  left,  and  the  pack  settles  down 
to  work  again,  the  whole  keeping  pretty  well  together. 

The  scent,  though  still  good,  is  not  so  thick,  there  is 
no  need  of  that,  for  in  this  part  of  the  run  every  one 
knows  the  line  which  must  be  taken,  and  so  there  are 
no  casts  to  be  made,  but  good  downright  running  and  fence 
climbing  to  be  done.  All  who  are  now  in  the  pack  mean  to 
be  in  at  the  finish,  and  they  come  to  the  foot  of  Barby  Hill 
without  losing  more  than  two  or  three  more  of  the  pack. 


-^  177  ^ 


HARE  AND   HOUNDS 


^  178  8«- 

This  last  straight  two  miles  and  a  half  is  always  a  vantage 
ground  for  the  hounds,  and  the  hares  know  it  well ;  they 
are  generally  viewed  on  the  side  of  Barby  Hill,  and  all 
eyes  are  on  the  lookout  for  them  to-day.  But  not  a  sign 
of  them  appears,  so  now  will  be  the  hard  work  for  the 
hounds ;  and  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  cast  about  for 
the  scent,  for  it  is  now  the  hares'  turn,  and  they  may 
baffle  the  pack  in  the  next  two  miles. 

Now  comes  a  brook,  with  stiff  clay  banks,  from  which 
they  can  hardly  drag  their  legs,  and  they  hear  faint  cries 
for  help  from  the  wretched  Taylor,  who  has  stuck  fast. 
But  they  have  too  little  run  left  in  themselves  to  wait 
even  for  their  own  brothers.  Three  fields  more,  and 
another  check,  and  then  "  forward  "  called  away  to  the 
extreme  right. 

The  courage  of  the  two  boys  dies  within  them ;  they 
can  never  do  it.  Young  Brooke  thinks  so,  too,  and  says 
kindly,  "  You'll  cross  a  lane  after  the  next  field,  follow  it, 
and  you'll  reach  the  Dunchurch  road  below  the  Inn,"  and 
then  he  hurries  away  for  the  run  in,  as  fresh  as  if  he  were 
just  starting. 

The  lads  struggle  on  across  the  next  field,  the  "  for- 
wards" getting  fainter  and  fainter,  and  then  ceasing. 
The  whole  hunt  is  out  of  earshot,  and  all  hope  of  coming 
in  is  over. 

"  I  told  you  how  it  would  be,"  broke  out  East,  as  soon 
as  he  had  got  breath  enough.     "  What  a  goose  I  was  to 


-^  179  8«- 

come.  Here  we  are,  tired  out,  and  yet  I  know  we  are 
close  to  the  run  in,  if  we  knew  the  country," 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  gulping  down  his  disappointment, 
"  it  can't  be  helped.  We  did  our  best,  anyway.  Hadn't 
we  better  find  the  lane  as  young  Brooke  told  us  ?  " 

^'I  suppose  so  —  nothing  else  for  it,"  said  East. 

So  they  walked  back  slowly  and  sorrowfully,  and  found 
the  lane,  and  went  limping  down  it,  splashing  in  the  pools 
of  muddy  water,  and  beginning  to  feel  how  the  run  had 
tired  them.  The  evening  closed  in  fast  and  clouded  over, 
dark  and  cold  and  dreary. 

"  It  must  be  locking-up  time,  I  should  think,"  re- 
marked East,  breaking  the  silence ;  "  it's  so  dark." 

"  What  if  we  are  late  ?  "  said  Tom. 

"  No  tea,  and  sent  up  to  the  doctor,"  answered  East. 

The  thought  did  not  add  to  their  cheerfulness.  Pres- 
ently a  faint  halloo  was  heard  from  an  adjoining  field. 
They  answered  it  and  stopped,  hoping  for  some  one  to 
guide  them,  when  over  a  gate,  some  twenty  yards  away, 
crawled  the  wretched  Taylor  in  a  state  of  collapse ;  he 
had  lost  a  shoe  in  the  brook,  and  been  groping  after  it  up 
to  his  elbows  in  the  stiff  wet  clay,  and  a  more  miserable 
creature  in  the  shape  of  a  boy  has  seldom  been  seen. 

The  sight  of  him,  however,  cheered  Tom  and  his  friend, 
for  he  was  several  degrees  more  wretched  than  they. 
They  also  cheered  him,  as  he  was  now  no  longer  under 
the  dread  of  passing  the  night  alone  in  the  fields.     And 


-« 180  e«- 

so  in  better  heart,  the  three  splashed  painfully  down  the 
never  ending  lane.  At  last  it  widened,  just  as  utter  dark- 
ness set  on,  and  they  came  out  on  a  turnpike  road,  and 
there  paused  bewildered,  for  they  had  lost  their  way,  and 
knew  not  whether  to  turn  to  the  right  or  the  left. 

Luckily  for  them  they  did  not  have  to  decide,  for 
lumbering  along  the  road,  with  one  lamp  lighted,  and 
two  old  horses  in  the  shafts,  came  a  heavy  coach,  which 
after  a  moment's  suspense  they  recognized  as  the  Oxford 
coach,  the  redoubtable  Pig  and  Whistle. 

It  lumbered  slowly  up,  and  the  boys,  mustering  their 
last  run,  caught  it  as  it  passed,  and  began  scrambling  up 
behind,  in  which  exploit  East  missed  his  footing  and  fell 
flat  on  his  nose  along  the  road.  Then  the  others  hailed 
the  coachman,  who  pulled  up  his  horses  and  agreed  to 
take  them  in  for  a  shilling.  So  tliere  they  sat  in  the  back 
seat,  drumming  with  their  heels,  and  their  teeth  chattering 
with  cold,  and  jogged  into  Rugby  about  forty  minutes 
after  time  for  locking  up. 

Five  minutes  later,  three  small,  limping,  shivering 
figures  steal  along  through  the  doctor's  garden,  and  into 
the  house  by  the  back  door,  where  the  first  thing  they 
come  upon  in  the  passage  is  old  Thomas,  ambling  along, 
candle  in  one  hand  and  keys  in  the  other. 

He  stops  and  examines  their  condition  with  a  grim 
smile.  "Ah,  East,  Taylor,  and  Brown,  late  for  locking 
up.     Must  go  up  to  the  doctor's  study  at  once." 


^  181  S«- 

"Well,  but  Thomas,  mayn't  we  go  and  wash  first? 
You  can  put  down  the  time,  you  know." 

"  Doctor's  study  directly  you  come  in  —  that's  the 
orders,"  replied  old  Thomas,  motioning  toward  the  stairs 
at  the  end  of  the  passage  which  led  up  into  the  doctor's 
house ;  and  the  boys  turned  ruefully  down  it.  Upon  the 
short  flight  of  stairs  they  paused  to  hold  counsel. 

"  Who'll  go  in  first  ?  "  inquired  Taylor. 

"You  —  you're  the  senior,"  answered  East. 

"Not  I  —  look  at  the  condition  I'm  in,"  rejoined 
Taylor,  showing  the  arms  of  his  jacket.  "I  must  get 
behind  you  two." 

"  Well,  but  look  at  me,"  said  East,  indicating  the  mass 
of  clay  behind  which  he  was  standing;  "I'm  worse  than 
you,  two  to  one ;  you  might  grow  cabbages  on  my 
trousers." 

"  That's  all  doAvn  beloAv,  and  you  can  keep  your  legs 
behind  the  sofa,"  said  Taylor. 

"  Here,  Brown,  you're  the  show  figure  —  you  must 
lead." 

"  But  my  face  is  all  muddy,"  argued  Tom. 

"  Come  on ;  we're  only  making  it  worse  staying  here," 
urged  East. 

"Well,  just  give  me  a  brush,  then,"  said  Tom;  and 
they  began  trying  to  rub  off  the  superfluous  dirt  from 
each  other's  jackets,  but  it  was  not  dry  enough,  and  the 
rubbing  made  it  worse  ;  so  in  despair  they  pushed  through 


-«  182  S«- 

the  swing  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  and  found  them- 
selves in  the  doctor's  hall. 

"  That's  the  library  door,"  said  East,  in  a  whisper, 
pushing  Tom  forward.  The  sound  of  merry  voices  and 
laughter  came  from  within,  and  his  first  hesitating  knock 
was  unanswered.  But  at  the  second,  the  doctor's  voice 
said,  "  Come  in."  Tom  turned  the  handle,  and  he,  with 
the  others  behind  him,  sidled  into  the  room. 

The  doctor  looked  up  from  his  task ;  he  was  working 
away  with  a  great  chisel  at  the  bottom  of  a  boy's  sailing 
boat.  Round  him  stood  three  or  four  children ;  the  can- 
dles burned  brightly  on  a  large  table  covered  with  books 
and  papers,  and  a  great  fire  threw  a  ruddy  glow  over  the 
rest  of  the  room.  All  looked  so  kindly  and  comfortable 
that  the  boys  took  heart  in  a  moment,  and  Tom  advanced 
from  behind  the  shelter  of  the  great  sofa.  The  doctor 
nodded  to  the  children,  who  went  out,  casting  curious  and 
amused  glances  at  the  three  young  scarecrows. 

"  Well,  my  little  lads,"  began  the  doctor,  drawing 
himself  up  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  his  eyes  twinkling 
as  he  looked  them  over ;  '-  what  makes  you  so  late  ?  " 

"  Please,  sir,  we've  been  out  big-side  hare-and-hounds, 
and  lost  our  way.'* 

"  Ha  !  you  couldn't  keep  up,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  East,  stepping  out,  and  not  liking  to 
have  the  doctor  think  lightly  of  his  running  powers,  "  we 
got  round  Barby  all  right,  but  then  —  " 


-«  183  B«- 

"  Why,  what  a  condition  you're  in,  my  boy ! "  inter- 
rupted the  doctor,  as  the  pitiful  state  of  East's  garments 
was  fully  revealed  to  him. 

'^  That's  the  fall  I  got,  sir,  in  the  road,"  said  East, 
looking  down  at  himself.     "  The  old  Pig  came  by  —  " 

"  The  what  ?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  The  Oxford  coach,  sir,"  explained  Taylor. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  And  I  tumbled  on  my  face  trying  to  get  up  behind." 

"  You're  not  hurt,  I  hope  ?  "  said  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir." 

"  Well  now,  run  up  stairs,  all  three  of  you,  and  get 
clean  things  on,  and  then  tell  the  housekeeper  to  give  you 
some  tea.  You're  too  young  to  try  such  long  runs.  Let 
Warner  know  I've  seen  you.     Good  night." 

"  Good  night,  sir."  And  away  hurried  the  three  boys 
in  high  glee. 

"  Wasn't  he  good  not  to  give  us  even  twenty  lines 
to  learn !  "  said  Taylor,  as  they  reached  their  bedroom ; 
and  in  half  an  hour  they  were  sitting  by  the  fire  in 
the  housekeeper's  room  at  a  sumptuous  tea,  with  cold 
meat.  "  Twice  as  good  a  supper  as  we  should  have  had 
in  the  hall,"  said  Taylor,  with  a  laugh,  his  mouth  full  of 
buttered  toast.  All  their  grievances  were  forgotten,  and 
they  were  thinking  hare-and-hounds  the  most  delightful  of 
games. 

—  Thomas  Hughes. 


-^  184  8<- 


SINDBAD,   THE   SAILORS 


porter^ 

perfume 

Arabian 

obtain 

inclined 

resistance 

dainties 

enriched 

indiscreet 

fatigue 

venerable 

instruments 

Many  years  ago  there  lived  in  Bagdad  a  poor  porter 
called  Hindbad.  One  day  he  was  employed  to  carry  a 
heavy  burden  to  a  distant  part  of  the  city.  He  went 
through  a  street  where  the  pavement  had  been  sprinkled 
with  rose  water ;  and  as  there  was  a  pleasant  breeze,  he 
laid  down  his  burden  and  seated  himself  near  the  wall 
of  a  house  to  rest. 

As  he  was  enjoying  the  agreeable  odor  of  the  perfume 
he  heard  the  sound  of  many  instruments,  and  saw  that  a 
fine  feast  was  to  be  served  in  the  house.  As  he  seldom 
passed  through  this  street,  he  knew  not  whose  house  it 
was ;  but  on  asking  one  of  the  passers,  he  was  told  that 
it  belonged  to  Sindbad,  the  sailor. 

While  Hindbad  thought  that  this  beautiful  building 
belonged  to  a  prince  he  was  not  disturbed ;  but  when  he 
learned  that  it  was  the  property  of  a  person  whom  he 
supposed  had  been  of  his  own  degree,  envy  took  possession 
of  his  breast.     He  returned  sullenly  to  his  burden,  and 

1  See  note  on  p.  202. 

2  Find  the  pronunciation  and  definition  of  these  words  in  the  vocabuhirv. 


■^  185  8«- 

murmured  against  Providence,  who  had  given  to  the  happy 
Sindbad  a  life  of  ease  and  luxury,  while  to  him  was  given 
work  and  poverty. 

While  he  was  expressing  these  thoughts  aloud,  two 
servants  came  to  him  and  desired  him  to  follow  them. 

Hindbad  did  not  willingly  obey  them ;  but  as  resistance 
was  in  vain,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  led  by  them  into  a 
great  hall  where  there  were  a  number  of  persons  seated  at 
dinner.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  table  there  sat  a  comely, 
venerable  gentleman  with  a  long  white  beard.  This  grave 
gentleman  was  Sindbad.  When  the  porter  was  brought 
forward,  Sindbad  asked  him  to  be  seated  at  his  right  hand, 
and  himself  served  him  with  the  choicest  dainties. 

When  dinner  was  over,  Sindbad  began  to  talk  with 
the  porter ;  and  calling  him  brother,  after  the  manner  of 
the  Arabians  when  they  are  familiar  with  one  another,  he 
asked  him  what  it  was  he  had  said  awhile  ago  in  the  street. 
"I  confess,  sir,"  replied  the  porter,  "my  fatigue  put  me 
out  of  humor,  and  I  uttered  some  indiscreet  words,  which 
I  humbly  request  you  to  pardon." 

"  I  did  not  send  for  you,"  replied  Sindbad,  "  in  anger ; 
but  as  you  murmur  because  I  have  obtained  the  wealth 
which  I  enjoy,  I  will  relate  to  you  the  adventures  by  which 
I  have  gained  this  wealth.  I  am  inclined  to  think  you 
would  rather  continue  in  your  safe  and  easy  poverty  than 
be  exposed  to  the  dangers  I  have  suffered,  though  they 
have  so  greatly  enriched  me." 


^  186  S«- 


SINDBAD'S   FIRST  VOYAGE 


traffic  1 

confident 

diminished 

musicians 

venture 

freighted 

fatigued 

becalmed 

sequins 

enormous 

merchandise 

cargo 

My  father  left  me  a  fortune  which  I  carelessly 
diminished.  I  then  engaged  in  traffic,  freighted  a  ves- 
sel, and  set  out  on  a  trading  voyage. 

One  day,  while  we  were  under  sail,  we  were  becalmed 
close  to  a  little  island,  almost  even  with  the  surface  of  the 
water,  which  resembled  a  green  meadow.  The  captain 
ordered  the  sails  to  be  furled,  and  permitted  those  who 
wished  to  do  so  to  go  on  shore. 

We  had  just  landed  when  the  island  trembled  and 
shook.  The  men  on  board  called  to  us  to  reembark 
directly,  as  what  we  had  taken  for  an  island  was  the  back 
of  an  enormous  fish.  The  nimblest  of  us  got  into  the 
sloop ;  others  jumped  into  the  sea,  and  swam  toward  the 
vessel;  but  I  was  still  on  the  back  of  the  fish  when  it 
dived  into  the  sea.  T  got  hold  of  a  piece  of  timber  which 
we  had  brought  to  make  a  fire  with,  and  was  preserved 
from  sinking,  but  I  found  it  impossible  to  return  to  the  ship. 

I  continued  in  this  situation' till  the  next  day, when  I 
reached  land,  much  fatigued.  As  I  advanced  from  the 
shore,  sundry  voices  called  out  to  me,  which  seemed  to 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  tliese  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  187  Be- 
come from  under  the  ground.     Looking  around  I  saw  a 
hollow  sunk  in  the  earth,  in  which  were  several  men  who 
received  me  with  great  kindness. 

These  men  were  soldiers  of  King  Mihrage  w^ho  had 
come  to  this  island  on  the  king's  business.  Had  I  been  a 
day  later  I  must  have  perished ;  for  the  island  was  unin- 
habited, and  they  had  so  nearly  finished  their  business  that 
they  set  out  on  their  return  the  next  morning.  On  our 
arrival  they  presented  me  to  the  king,  who  ordered  me 
supplied  with  everything  I  needed. 

I  lived  here  many  weeks,  seeking  vainly  to  find  a  way 
of  returning  to  my  native  land.  At  last,  one  day  as  I  was 
at  the  port,  I  saw  some  bales  that  w^ere  being  unloaded 
from  a  vessel,  and  presently  discovered  that  they  w^ere  my 
own.  I  sought  the  captain,  but  it  was  some  time  before 
I  could  persuade  him  that  I  was  Sindbad,  so  confident 
was  he  that  he  had  seen  me  perish.  When  he  was  con- 
vinced, he  restored  my  cargo  to  me,  which  I  sold  to  very 
great  advantage. 

I  loaded  my  part  of  the  vessel  with  the  best  produce 
of  the  country,  and  had  a  safe  and  speedy  passage  home ; 
where  I  disposed  of  my  merchandise  for  ten  thousand 
sequins. 

Sindbad  stopped  here  and  ordered  the  musicians  to 
renew  the  concert.  In  the  evening  he  gave  the  poor 
porter  a  purse  of  a  hundred  sequins,  and  bade  him  come 
the  next  day  to  hear  more  of  his  adventures. 


-^  188  B^   - 
SINDBAD'S   SIXTH   VOYAGE 


rivulet  ^ 

Arabic 

caliph 

potent 

Serendib 

absolutely- 

enormous 

Haroun  al  Raschid 

importuning 

Several  months  after  my  last  voyage  a  few  of  my 
friends  agreed  on  a  voyage ;  and  they  did  not  cease  im- 
portuning me  until  I  consented  to  go  with  them. 

For  some  time  we  had  pleasant  weather.  We  sailed 
many  days  without  seeing  land,  but  having  perfect  faith 
in  our  captain,  we  were  not  troubled.  At  length  the  ship 
was  forced  along  by  a  strong  current.  The  moment  the 
captain  perceived  it  he  exclaimed,  "  We  are  lost !  "  He 
immediately  ordered  all  the  sails  to  be  set  against  the  cur- 
rent, but  in  vain ;  the  ropes  broke  and  the  sails  dropped. 

The  ship,  in  spite  of  our  utmost  efforts,  continued  to 
be  forced  on  by  the  current  until  we  came  to  the  foot  of 
a  mountain,  where  she  ran  ashore  and  was  soon  dashed  to 
pieces  against  the  rocks. 

Most  of  the  crew  perished.  The  captain,  two  seamen, 
and  I  escaped,  but  we  were  all  much  bruised.  The  cap- 
tain told  us  that  all  hope  of  escape  from  the  place  was 
vain,  as  the  current  was  so  strong  that  no  vessel  could 
possibly  sail  against  it.  This  discouraged  us  exceedingly  ; 
and,  indeed,  what  we  saw  too  strongly  confirmed  his  state- 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-^  189  8«- 

ments.  The  whole  shore  was  covered  with  the  wrecks  of 
vessels,  and  the  great  quantity  of  riches  with  which  the 
strand  was  covered  only  served  to  aggravate  our  sorrows. 

Whether  it  was  from  our  hopeless  condition,  or  from 
the  bruises  they  had  received,  I  know  not ;  but  the  next 
day  the  captain  and  the  two  sailors  expired,  and  I  was 
left  alone  in  this  terrible  situation. 

I  was,  however,  too  much  accustomed  to  misfortune 
to  despair,  and  I  began  to  survey  the  shore  and  to  seek 
everywhere  for  a  possibility  of  relief.  On  examining  the 
mountain  I  found  that  all  hope  of  climbing  it  was  vain, 
for  it  was  not  only  enormously  high,  but  in  many  places 
absolutely  perpendicular. 

I  had  almost  given  up  every  hope,  when  I  discovered 
a  rivulet  of  fresh  water  which,  instead  of  running  into  the 
sea,  penetrated  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  To  this  place  I 
brought,  with  great  difficulty,  pieces  of  our  wrecked  vessel, 
and  with  them  made  a  strong  float.  Having  secured  this 
properly,  I  went  in  search  of  provisions.  An  edible  crab, 
which  I  found  in  great  abundance,  I  placed  on  my  float, 
resolving  to  trust  myself  on  it,  and  take  the  chance  of 
being  carried  to  a  place  of  safety  by  the  stream.  Before 
embarking,  I  collected  great  quantities  of  diamonds,  ru- 
bies, and  precious  stones,  together  with  other  valuable 
material  which  had  been  deposited  on  the  shore  from  the 
numerous  wrecks.  These  I  fastened  securely  to  my  float, 
and  cutting  the  cable,  I  drifted  down  the  stream. 


•^  190  8«- 

I  was  conveyed  into  a  hollow  passage  under  the  moun- 
tain, which  was  entirely  dark.  Here  I  sailed  until  at  last  my 
food  was  exhausted  ;  I  grew  faint,  and  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

When  I  awoke  I  found  that  my  float  had  been  drawn 
to  the  shore,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  number  of  strange- 
looking  men.  They  spoke  to  me,  but  I  could  not  under- 
stand them.  I  was,  however,  so  overjoyed  at  being 
among  men,  that  I  cried  aloud  in  Arabic. 

Fortunately  one  of  the  men  understood  Arabic,  and 
from  him  I  learned  that  my  float  had  been  seen  by  the 
king,  and  he  had  ordered  it  to  be  drawn  to  the  shore. 
He  then  requested  that  I  would  tell  him  by  what  accident 
I  came  into  such  a  situation.  I  related  my  story,  which 
he  interpreted  to  the  others. 

When  I  had  finished,  he  desired  that  I  would  permit 
them  to  conduct  me  to  the  king,  that  I  might  relate  such 
an  extraordinary  adventure  to  him  myself.  I  cheerfully 
consented,  and  while  some  of  them  conducted  me  to  the 
palace,  others  followed,  bearing  the  cargo  from  my  float. 
I  was  very  favorably  received  by  the  king,  and  thankfully 
accepted  his  invitation  to  remain  in  his  court  while  I 
recovered  from  my  fatigue. 

The  island  was  called  Serendib,  and  was  exceedingly 
pleasant  and  fertile.  The  people  were  hospitable,  and  so 
just  that  lawsuits  are  unknown  among  them.  The  mag- 
nificence of  the  palace  and  the  splendor  of  their  ruler 
when  he  appears,  in  public  are  truly  wonderful. 


^  191  8«- 

On  this  occasion  the  king  has  a  throne  fixed  on  the 
back  of  an  elephant ;  before  him  an  officer  carries  a 
golden  lance  in  his  hand,  and  behind  the  throne  another 
officer  supports  a  column  of  gold ;  the  guard  consists  of 
a  thousand  men,  all  clad  in  silk  and  cloth  of  gold.  As 
the  king  advances,  the  officer  who  carries  the  lance  cries 
out  occasionally  :  "  Behold  the  great  monarch  ;  the  potent 
and  redoubtable  sultan  of  the  Indies ;  whose  palace  is  cov- 
ered with  a  hundred  thousand  rubies,  and  who  possesses 
twenty  thousand  crowns,  enriched  w^ith  diamonds ;  behold 
the  crowned  monarch,  greater  than  the  greatest  of  princes! " 

After  I  had  lived  several  months  in  the  capital,  I  re- 
quested the  king's  permission  to  return  to  my  own  coun- 
try, w^hich  he  immediately  granted  in  the  most  obliging 
and  honorable  manner.  He  forced  me  to  accept  a  very 
rich  present,  and  at  the  same  time  intrusted  to  my  care  a 
gift  of  immense  value,  which  he  directed  me  to  present 
with  a  letter,  in  his  name,  to  our  sovereign,  the  Caliph 
Haroun  al  Raschid. 

Our  voyage  was  short  and  pleasant.  I  had  the  honor 
to  deliver  the  letter  and  gift  of  the  King  of  Serendib  to 
our  caliph  with  my  own  hands ;  after  which  I  retired 
to  my  home,  rejoicing  with  my  friends  on  my  safe  return, 
and  resolving  to  pass  the  rest  of  my  days  among  them. 

Sindbad  presented  the  porter  as  before  with  a  purse  of 
a  hundred  sequins,  and  desired  him  to  come  the  following 
day  to  hear  an  account  of  his  last  voyage. 


-^  192  6«- 

SINDBAD'S   SEVENTH   VOYAGE 

acquaint  ^  Balsora  patron 

sagacity  reputation  faculties 

composed  commission  sufficiently 

narrative  generosity  graciously 

I  had  now  determined  to  go  no  more  to  sea.  My 
wealth  was  unbounded,  my  reputation  established,  my 
curiosity  gratified,  and  my  years  began  to  demand  rest ; 
so  that  I  wished  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  my  former  toils 
and  dangers.  But  the  caliph  sent  for  me,  told  me  he  had 
resolved  to  answer  the  letter  of  the  King  of  Serendib,  and 
to  return  to  him  a  gift  of  equal  value  to  that  which  I  had 
brought  to  him,  and  that  he  had  fixed  on  me  as  the  bearer 
of  the  letter  and  gift. 

I  begged  to  be  excused,  and  related  to  the  caliph  the 
many  perils  I  had  endured.  He  expressed  his  surprise 
and  satisfaction  at  my  narrative,  but  persisted  in  his  desire, 
and  I  cheerfully  prepared  to  obey  his  commands. 

As  soon  as  the  caliph's  letter  and  gift  were  delivered 
to  me,  I  set  sail,  and  after  a  pleasant  voyage,  I  arrived  at 
the  island  of  Serendib  and  discharged  my  commission. 
The  king  received  me  in  the  most  distinguished  manner, 
and  expressed  his  pleasure  with  the  caliph's  friendship.  I 
stayed  a  short  time  at  the  palace,  and  then  reembarked 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  tliese  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-58  193  3«- 

for  Balsora,  but  had  not  the  good  fortune  to  arrive  there 
as  I  hoped. 

Within  three  days  of  our  departure  we  fell  in  with  a 
pirate  who  took  us  captive  and,  carrying  us  into  port,  sold 
us  all  for  slaves.  I  was  bought  by  a  wealthy  merchant, 
who  treated  me  kindly.  He  inquired  if  I  understood  the 
use  of  the  bow,  and  seemed  much  pleased  when  I  told  him 
it  had  been  one  of  the  exercises  of  my  youth,  and  that  I 
had  always  delighted  in  it.  He  gave  me  a  bow  and 
arrows,  and  led  me  to  a  vast  forest.  "  Climb  one  of  these 
trees,"  he  said.  "  This  forest  abounds  with  elephants;  as 
they  come  within  bow-shot,  shoot  at  them,  and  if  one  falls, 
come  and  give  me  warning." 

I  remained  in  the  tree  all  night.  In  the  evening  I 
saw  many  elephants,  and  shot  at  them  ;  at  last  one  fell. 
I  hastened  to  acquaint  my  patron  with  my  success.  We 
returned  to  the  forest  and  removed  the  ivory  tusks  from 
the  elephant  which  I  had  killed. 

For  two  months  I  continued  to  kill  an  elephant  every 
day,  sometimes  from  one  tree  and  sometimes  from  an- 
other. One  morning,  while  I  was  watching  for  them,  I 
perceived  that  they  did  not  cross  the  forest  as  usual,  but 
came  in  great  numbers  directly  toward  the  tree  where  I 
was.  Their  approach  alarmed  me  so  much  that  my  bow 
and  arrows  fell  from  my  hand  ;  and  my  terror  greatly  in- 
creased when  one  of  the  largest  of  the  huge  creatures 
wound  his  trunk  around  the  body  of  the  tree  in  which  I 


-«  194  8«- 

was  hidden,  and  pulled  so  hard  that  he  soon  tore  the  tree 
lip  by  the  roots,  and  threw  it  on  the  ground. 

As  I  was  falling  with  the  tree  I  gave  myself  up  for 
lost ;  but  the  elephant,  when  I  reached  the  earth,  took  me 
up  gently  and  placed  me  on  his  back.  He  then  marched 
at  the  head  of  his  companions  into  the  heart  of  the  forest, 
where  he  stopped,  took  hold  of  me  with  his  trunk  and 
seated  me  on  the  ground.  Immediately  he  and  all  of  his 
companions  retired  and  left  me. 

I  had  been  so  terribly  frightened  during  all  this  time 
that  it  was  long  before  I  recovered  the  use  of  my  faculties. 
When  I  became  composed  enough  to  look  about  me,  I 
found  that  I  was  upon  a  long,  broad  hill,  covered  all  over 
with  the  bones  of  elephants.  Among  them  were  hundreds 
of  the  valuable  ivory  tusks.  I  could  not  but  admire  the 
sagacity  of  these  animals.  They  had  perceived,  no  doubt, 
that  after  I  killed  their  companions,  we  removed  the 
tusks ;  and  had  conducted  me  to  their  burial-place  that  we 
might  obtain  what  we  wished  without  the  necessity  of 
killing  them. 

I  returned  to  the  city  and  found  my  patron  in  great 
trouble  about  me.  I  related  to  him  my  adventure,  which 
he  would  hardly  believe.  We  set  out  the  next  morning 
for  the  hill,  however,  where  he  soon  found  that  every- 
thing I  had  told  him  was  true.  We  took  away  with  us 
ivory  of  great  value ;  and  on  our  return  to  the  city,  my 
patron  said:   "Brother,  I  give  you  your  liberty;  I  will 


-«i95e^ 


SINDBAD.   THE   SAILOR 


-«  196  B^ 

not  hold  in  bondage  a  moment  longer  the  man  who  hath 
so  greatly  enriched  me.  Think  not  that  by  restoring 
you  to  freedom,  I  suppose  you  sufficiently  rewarded. 
When  I  procure  a  vessel  to  convey  you  to  your  home, 
you  will  find  that  I  shall  prove  my  gratitude  to  you  still 
further." 

According  to  his  promise  my  patron  provided  me  with 
a  ship,  and  having  freighted  it  with  ivory,  he  made  me 
a  present  of  both  ship  and  cargo ;  and  in  a  short  time  I 
returned  home  with  another  great  addition  to  my  wealth. 

On  my  arrival  at  Bagdad,  I  waited  on  the  caliph,  and 
related  to  him  my  adventures,  which  he  heard  with  much 
interest.  He  dismissed  me  very  graciously,  and  I  have 
since  devoted  my  time  wholly  to  my  family,  kindred,  and 
friends. 

Sindbad  finished  the  relation  of  his  voyages,  and  ad- 
dressed Hindbad  thus :  "  You  now  know  by  what  means 
I  have  acquired  the  wealth  which  you  envied.  Do  you 
not  think  that  I  have  gained  it  through  dangers  more 
than  equal  to  its  value,  and  ought  I  not  to  enjoy  the 
fruits  of  my  labors?" 

The  porter  modestly  owned  the  truth  of  Sindbad's 
reasoning,  adding  thanks  to  him  for  his  generosity. 
Sindbad  again  presented  him  with  a  hundred  sequins, 
and  finding  him  worthy  of  esteem,  gave  him  a  place 
among  his  retinue  of  servants. 

—  From  "Arabian  Nights." 


-»e  197  8«- 

THE   FROST   SPIRIT 

He  comes  —  he  comes  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes!  —  You 

may  trace  his  footsteps  now 
On  the  naked  woods  and  the  blasted  fields  and  the  brown 

hill's  withered  brow. 
He  has  smitten  the  leaves  of  the  gray  old  trees  where 

their  pleasant  green  came  forth, 
And   the  winds,  which   follow  wherever  he  goes,  have 

shaken  them  down  to  earth. 

He  comes  —  he  comes  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes  !  —  from 
the  frozen  Labrador  — 

From  the  icy  bridge  of  the  Northern  Seas,  which  the 
white  bear  wanders  o'er. 

Where  the  fisherman's  sail  is  stiff  with  ice,  and  the  luck- 
less forms  below 

In  the  sunless  cold  of  the  lingering  night  into  marble 
statues  grow ! 

He  comes  —  he  comes  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes  !  —  on  the 

rushing  Northern  blast, 
And  the  dark  Norwegian  pines  have  bowed  as  his  fearful 

breath  went  past. 
^Yit\l  an  unscorched  wing  he  has  hurried  on,  where  the 

fires  of  Hecla  glow 
On  the  darkly  beautiful  sky  above  and  the  ancient  ice 

below. 


^  198  d^ 

He  comes  —  he  comes  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes  !  —  and 

the  quiet  lake  shall  feel 
The  torpid  touch  of  his  glazing  breath,  and  ring  to  the 

skater's  heel ; 
And  the  streams  which  danced  on  the  broken  rocks,  or 

sang  to  the  leaning  grass, 
Shall  bow  again  to  their  winter  chain,  and  in  mournful 

silence  pass. 

He  comes  —  he  comes  —  the  Frost  Spirit  comes  !  —  let  us 
meet  him  as  we  may. 

And  turn  with  the  light  of  the  parlor-fire  his  evil  power 
away ; 

And  gather  closer  the  circle  round,  when  that  fire-light 
dances  high. 

And  laugh  at  the  shriek  of  the  baffled  Fiend  as  his  sound- 
ing wing  goes  by  ! 

—  John  Grkenleaf  Whittikr. 


THE   SNOWSTORM 

Announced  by  all  the  trumpets  of  the  sky, 
Arrives  the  snow,  and,  driving  o'er  the  fields, 
Seems  nowhere  to  alight ;  the  whited  air 
Hides  hills  and  woods,  the  river,  and  the  heaven, 
And  veils  the  farm-house  at  the  garden's  end. 


-^  199  S«- 

The  sled  and  traveller  stopped,  the  courier's  feet 
Delayed,  all  friends  shut  out,  the  house-mates  sit 
Around  the  radiant  fireplace,  inclosed 
In  a  tumultuous  privacy  of  storm. 
Come  see  the  north-wind's  masonry. 
Out  of  an  unseen  quarry  evermore 
Furnished  with  tile,  the  fierce  artificer 
Curves  his  white  bastions  with  projected  roof 
Round  every  windward  stake,  or  tree,  or  door. 
Speeding,  the  myriad-handed,  his  wild  work 
So  fanciful,  so  savage,  naught  cares  he 
For  number  or  proportion.     Mockingly, 
On  coop  or  kennel  he  hangs  Parian  wreaths; 
A  swan-like  form  invests  the  hidden  thorn ; 
Fills  up  the  farmer's  lane  from  wall  to  wall, 
Maugre  the  farmer's  sighs ;  and,  at  the  gate, 
A  tapering  turret  overtops  the  work. 
And  when  his  hours  are  numbered,  and  the  world 
Is  all  his  own,  retiring,  as  he  were  not. 
Leaves,  when  the  sun  appears,  astonished  Art 
To  mimic  in  slow  structures,  stone  by  stone. 
Built  in  an  age,  the  mad  wind's  night-work. 
The  frolic  architecture  of  the  snow. 

—  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


^  200  B^ 


THE   NEW  YEARi 

Ring  out,  wild  bells,  to  the  wild  sky, 
The  flying  cloud,  the  frosty  light  r 
The  year  is  dying  in  the  night ; 

Ring  out,  wild  bells,  and  let  hiin  die. 

Ring  out  the  old,  ring  in  the  new, 

Ring,  happy  bells,  across  the  snow  : 
The  year  is  going,  let  h'un  go ; 

Ring  out  the  false,  ring  in  the  true. 

Ring  out  the  grief  that  saps  the  mind. 
For  those  that  here  we  see  no  more : 
Ring  out  the  feud  of  rich  and  poor, 

Ring  in  redress  to  all  mankind. 

Ring  out  a  slowly  dying  cause, 

And  ancient  forms  of  party  strife ; 
Ring  in  the  nobler  modes  of  life. 

With  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws. 

Ring  out  the  want,  the  care,  the  sin, 
The  faithless  coldness  of  the  times : 
Ring  out,  ring  out  my  mournful  rhymes, 

But  ring  the  fuller  minstrel  in. 

1  See  note  on  page  262. 


■^  201  B«- 

Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood, 
The  civic  slander  and  the  spite ; 
Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 

Ring  in  the  common  love  of  good. 

Ring  out  old  shapes  of  foul  disease ; 

Ring  out  the  narrowing  lust  of  gold : 
Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old. 

Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 

Ring  in  the  valiant  man  and  free, 

,  The  larger  heart,  the  kindlier  hand : 
Ring  out  the  darkness  of  the  land. 
Ring  in  the  Christ  that  is  to  be. 

—  Alfred  Tennyson. 

THE   NOBLE   NATURE 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 

In  bulk,  doth  make  man  better  be  ; 

Or  standing  long  an  oak,  three  hundred  year, 

To  fall  a  log  at  last,  dry,  bald,  and  sere ; 
A  lily  of  a  day 
Is  fairer  far  in  May, 
Although  it  fall  and  die  that  night  — 
It  was  the  plant  and  flower  of  Light. 

In  small  proportions  we  just  beauty  see ; 

And  in  short  measures  life  may  perfect  be. 

—  Bbn  Jonson. 


^  202  ^ 


MR.   PICKWICK   DRIVES  1 


balmy  ^ 

chase 

vehicle 

manoeuvre 

revelry 

hostler 

equestrian 

presentiment 

sundries 

rotatory 

respective 

preliminary 

resource 

destination 

symmetry 

indisputable 

reflective 

sauntered 

propensity 

battlements 

consumers 

hospitable 

impetuosity 

balustrade 

Bright  and  pleasant  was  the  sky,  balmy  the  air,  and 
beautiful  the  appearance  of  every  object  around,  as  Mr. 
Pickwick  leaned  over  the  balustrade  of  Rochester  Bridge, 
contemplating  nature,  and  waiting  for  breakfast.  The 
scene  was  indeed  one  which  might  well  have  charmed  a 
far  less  reflective  mind  than  that  to  which  it  was  pre- 
sented. 

On  the  left  of  the  spectator  lay  the  ruined  wall,  broken 
in  many  places,  and  in  some,  overhanging  the  narrow  beach 
below  in  rude  and  heavy  masses.  Huge  knots  of  sea-weed 
hung  upon  the  jagged  and  pointed  stones,  trembling  in 
every  breath  of  wind,  and  the  green  ivy  clung  mournfully 
round  the  dark  and  ruined  battlements.  Behind  it  rose 
the  ancient  castle,  its  towers  roofless,  and  its  massive  walls 
crumbling  away,  but  telling  as  proudly  of  its  own  might 
and  strength,  as  when,  seven  hundred  years  ago,  it  rang 

1  See  note  on  page  263. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


■^  203  B^ 

with  the  clash  of  arms,  or  resounded  with  the  noise  of 
feasting  and  revelry. 

On  either  side  the  banks  of  the  Medway,  covered  with 
corn-fields  and  pastures,  with  here  and  there  a  windmill, 
or  a  distant  church,  stretched  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
see,  presenting  a  rich  and  varied  landscape,  rendered  more 
beautiful  by  the  changing  shadows  which  passed  swiftly 
across  it,  as  the  thin  and  half-formed  clouds  skimmed 
away  in  the  light  of  the  morning  sun.  The  river,  reflect- 
ing the  clear  blue  of  the  sky,  glistened  and  sparkled  as  it 
flowed  noiselessly  on  ;  and  the  oars  of  the  fishermen  dipped 
into  the  water  with  a  clear  and  liquid,  sound,  as  the  heavy 
but  picturesque  boats  glided  slowly  down  the  stream. 

Mr.  Pickwick  gazed  so  long  at  the  landscape  that  when 
he  returned  to  the  inn  he  found  his  three  companions  had 
risen,  and  were  waiting  his  arrival  to  commence  breakfast, 
which  was  ready,  laid  in  a  tempting  display.  They  sat 
down  to  the  meal ;  and  broiled  ham,  eggs,  tea,  coffee,  and 
sundries  began  to  disappear  with  a  rapidity  which  at  once 
bore  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  the  fare  and  the  appe- 
tites of  its  consumers. 

"  Now,  about  Manor  Farm,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  How 
shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  We  had  better  consult  the  waiter,  perhaps,"  said  Mr. 
Tupman,  and  the  waiter  was  summoned  accordingly. 

"  Dingley  Dell,  gentlemen  —  fifteen  miles,  gentlemen 
—  cross-road  —  post-chaise,  sir  ?  " 


-«  204  9«- 

"  Post-chaise  won't  hold  more  than  two,"  said  Mr.  Pick- 
wick. 

"  True,  sir  —  beg  your  pardon,  sir.  Very  nice  four- 
wheeled  chaise,  sir  —  seat  for  two  behind  —  one  in  front 
for  the  gentleman  that  drives  —  oh !  beg  your  pardon,  sir, 
—  that'll  only  hold  three." 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?  "  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Perhaps  one  of  the  gentlemen  would  like  to  ride, 
sir  ? "  suggested  the  waiter,  looking  toward  Mr.  Winkle. 
"  Very  good  saddle  horses,  sir,  —  any  of  Mr.  Wardle's 
men  coming  to  Rochester  can  bring  them  back,  sir." 

"  The  very  thing,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  "  Winkle,  will 
you  go  on  horseback  ?  " 

Mr.  Winkle  did  entertain  considerable  misgiving  in 
the  very  lowest  recesses  of  his  own  heart,  relative  to  his 
equestrian  skill,  but,  as  he  would  not  have  them  even 
suspected  on  any  account,  he  at  once  replied  with  great 
hardihood,  "  Certainly,  I  should  enjoy  it  of  all  things." 

Mr.  Winkle  had  rushed  upon  his  fate ;  there  was  no 
resource.  "  Let  them  be  at  the  door  by  eleven,"  said  Mr. 
Pickwick. 

"  Very  well,  sir,"  replied  the  waiter. 

The  waiter  retired ;  the  breakfast  concluded ;  and  the 
travellers  retired  to  their  respective^  bedrooms  to  prepare 
a  change  of  clothing,  to  take  with  them  on  their  approach- 
ing expedition. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  made  his  preliminary  arrangements 


^  205  ^ 

and  was  looking  over  the  coffee-room  blinds  at  the  passen- 
gers in  the  street,  when  the  waiter  entered  and  announced 
that  the  chaise  was  ready  ;  an  announcement  which  the 
vehicle  itself  confirmed,  by  forthwith  appearing  before 
the  coffee-room  blinds. 

It  was  a  curious  little  green  box  on  four  wheels,  with 
a  low  place  for  two  behind,  and  an  elevated  seat  for  one 
in  front,  drawn  by  an  immense  brown  horse,  displaying 
great  symmetry  of  bone.  A  hostler  stood  near,  holding 
by  the  bridle  another  immense  horse  —  apparently  a  near 
relative  of  the  animal  in  the  chaise  —  ready  saddled  for 
Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "  said  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  they  stood 
upon  the  pavement  while  the  coats  were  being  put  in. 
"  Bless  my  soul !  who's  to  drive  ?  I  never  thought  of 
that." 

"  Oh  !  you,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Tupman. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  I !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Not  the  slightest  fear,  sir,"  interposed  the  hostler. 
"  Warrant  him  quiet,  sir ;  a  hinfant  in  arms  might  drive 
him." 

'^  He  doesn't  shy,  does  he  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Shy,  sir  ?  He  wouldn't  shy  if  he  was  to  meet  a 
vaggin-load  of  monkeys  with  their  tails  burnt  off." 

The  last  recommendation  was  indisputable.  Mr.  Tup- 
man   and   Mr.  Snodgrass   climbed   into  the  chp^ise ;    Mr. 


-«  206  ^ 

Pickwick  ascended  to  his  seat,  and  deposited  his  feet  on  a 
floor-cloth  shelf,  erected  beneath  it  for  that  purpose. 

"Now,  shiny  Villiam,"  said  the  hostler  to  the  deputy 
hostler,  "  give  the  gentleman  the  ribbons."  "  Shiny 
Villiam"  —  so  called,  probably,  from  his  sleek  hair  and 
oily  countenance  —  placed  the  reins  in  Mr.  Pickwick's  left 
hand,  and  the  hostler  thrust  the  whip  into  his  right. 

"  Wo-o !  "  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  as  the  tall  quadruped 
evinced  a  decided  inclination  to  back  into  the  coffee-room 
window. 

"Wo-o !  "  echoed  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass. 

"  Only  his  playfulness,  gentlemen,"  said  the  head  hos- 
tler encouragingly ;  "just  catch  hold  of  him,  Villiam." 

The  deputy  restrained  the  animal's  impetuosity,  and 
the  hostler  ran  to  assist  Mr.  Winkle  in  mounting. 

"  The  other  side,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  The  gentleman  w^as  getting  up  on  the  wrong  side," 
whispered  a  grinning  post-boy  to  the  waiter. 

Mr.  Winkle,  thus  instructed,  climbed  into  his  saddle 
with  about  as  much  difficulty  as  he  would  have  experi- 
enced in  getting  up  the  side  of  a  first-rate  man-of-war. 

"  All  right  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Pickwick,  with  an  inward 
presentiment  that  it  was  all  wrong. 

"  All  right,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle  faintly. 

"  Let  'em  go,"  cried  the  hostler ;  "  hold  him  in,  sir," — 
and  away  went  the  chaise,  and  the  saddle  horse,  with  Mr. 
Pickwick  on  the  box  of  the  one,  and  Mr.  Winkle  on  the 


-^  207  8«- 

back  of  the  other,  to  the  delight  and  gratification  of  the 
whole  inn  yard. 

''  What  makes  him  go  so  sideways  ? "  said  Mr.  Snod- 
grass  in  the  chaise  to  Mr.  Winkle  in  the  saddle. 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  His  horse  was 
drifting  up  the  street  in  the  most  mysterious  manner  — 
side  first,  with  his  head  toward  one  side  of  the  way,  and 
his  tail  toward  the  other. 

Mr.  Pickwick  had  no  leisure  to  observe  either  this  or 
any  other  particular,  the  whole  of  his  faculties  being  con- 
centrated in  the  management  of  the  animal  attached  to 
the  chaise,  who  displayed  various  peculiarities,  highly 
interesting  to  a  bystander,  but  by  no  means  equally  amus- 
ing to  any  one  seated  behind  him. 

Besides  constantly  jerking  his  head  up,  in  a  very  un- 
pleasant and  uncomfortable  manner,  and  tugging  at  the 
reins  to  an  extent  which  rendered  it  a  matter  of  great 
difficulty  for  Mr.  Pickwick  to  hold  them,  he  had  a  singular 
propensity  for  darting  suddenly  every  now  and  then  to  the 
side  of  the  road,  then  stopping  short,  then  rushing  forward 
for  some  minutes  at  a  speed  which  it  was  wholly  impos- 
sible to  control. 

"What  can  he  mean  by  this?"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass, 
when  the  horse  had  executed  this  manoeuvre  for  the 
twentieth  time. 

''  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mr.  Tupman ;  "  it  looks  very 
like  shying,  doesn't  it  ?  " 


-^  208  S«- 

Mr.  Snodgrass  was  about  to  reply,  when  he  was  inter- 
rupted by  a  shout  from  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"  Wo-o  !  "  said  that  gentleman  ;  ''  I  have  dropped 
my  whip." 

"Winkle,"  said  Mr.  Snodgrass,  as  the  equestrian  came 
trotting  up  on  the  tall  horse,  with  his  hat  over  his  ears, 
and  shaking  all  over,  as  if  he  would  shake  to  pieces  with 
the  violence  of  the  exercise,  "  pick  up  the  whip,  there's  a 
good  fellow." 

Mr.  Winkle  pulled  at  the  bridle  of  the  tall  horse  till 
he  was  black  in  the  face ;  and  having  at  length  succeeded 
in  stopping  him,  he  dismounted,  handed  the  whip  to  Mr. 
Pickwick,  and  grasping  the  reins  firmly  in  his  right  hand, 
prepared  to  remount. 

Now,  whether  the  tall  horse,  in  the  natural  playfulness 
of  his  disposition,  was  desirous  of  having  a  little  innocent 
recreation  with  Mr.  Winkle,  or  whether  it  occurred  to  him 
that  he  could  perform  the  journey  as  much  to  his  own 
satisfaction  without  a  rider  as  with  one,  are  points  upon 
which,  of  course,  we  can  arrive  at  no  definite  and  distinct 
conclusion.  By  whatever  motives  the  animal  was  actu- 
ated, certain  it  is  that  Mr.  Winkle  had  no  sooner  touched 
the  reins  than  he  slipped  them  over  his  head,  and  darted 
backwards  to  their  full  length. 

"Poor  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Winkle,  soothingly,  —  "poor 
fellow  —  good  old  horse."  The  "poor  fellow"  was  proof 
against  flattery :  the  more  Mr.  Winkle  tried  to  get  nearer 


-^  209  ^ 

him,  the  more  he  sidled  away ;  and  notwithstanding  all 
kinds  of  coaxing  and  w^heedling,  there  were  Mr.  Winkle 
and  the  horse  going  round  and  round  each  other  for  ten 
minutes,  at  the  end  of  which  time  each  was  precisely  the 
same  distance  from  each  other  as  when  they  first  com- 
menced —  an  unsatisfactory  sort  of  thing  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, but  particularly  so  in  a  lonely  road,  where  no 
assistance  can  be  procured. 

"What  am  I  to  do?"  shouted  Mr.  Winkle,  after  the 
dodging  had  been  prolonged  for  a  considerable  time. 
"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  He  won't  stand  still.  I  can't  get 
on  him." 

"  You  had  better  lead  him  till  we  come  to  a  turnpike," 
replied  Mr.  Pickwick  from  the  chaise. 

'^But  he  won't  come!"  roared  Mr.  Winkle.  "Do 
come  and  hold  him." 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  the  very  personation  of  kindness 
and  humanity ;  he  threw  the  reins  on  the  horse's  back, 
and  having  descended  from  his  seat,  carefully  drew  the 
chaise  into  the  hedge,  lest  anything  should  come  along  the 
road,  and  stepped  back  to  the  assistance  of  his  distressed 
companion,  leaving  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  in 
the  vehicle. 

The  horse  no  sooner  beheld  Mr.  Pickwick  advancing 
toward  him  with  the  chaise  whip  in  his  hand,  than  he 
exchanged  the  rotatory  motion  in  which  he  had  previously 
indulged,  for  a  backward  movement  of  so  very  determined 


-^  210  8«- 

a  character,  that  it  at  once  drew  Mr.  Winkle,  who  was 
still  at  the  end  of  the  bridle,  at  a  rather  quicker  rate*  than 
fast  walking,  in  the  direction  from  which  they  had  just 
come.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to  his  assistance,  but  the  faster 
Mr.  Pickwick  ran  forward,  the  faster  the  horse  ran  back- 
ward. There  was  a  great  scraping  of  feet  and  kicking 
up  of  the  dust;  and  at  last  Mr.  Winkle,  his  arms  being 
nearly  pulled  out  of  their  sockets,  fairly  let  go  his  hold. 
The  horse  paused,  stared,  shook  his  head,  turned  round, 
and  quietly  trotted  home  to  Rochester,  leaving  Mr.  Win- 
kle and  Mr.  Pickwick  gazing  on  each  other  with  counte- 
nances of  blank  dismay. 

A  rattling  noise  at  a  little  distance  attracted  their 
attention.  They  looked  up.  '^  Bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed 
the  agonized  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  there's  the  other  horse  run- 
ning away ! " 

It  was  but  too  true.  The  animal  was  startled  by  the 
noise,  and  the  reins  were  on  his  back.  The  result  may 
be  guessed.  He  tore  off  with  the  four-wheeled  chaise 
behind  him,  and  Mr.  Tupman  and  Mr.  Snodgrass  in  the 
four-wheeled  chaise.  The  heat  was  a  short  one.  Mr. 
Tupman  threw  himself  into  the  hedge,  Mr.  Snodgrass  fol- 
lowed his  example,  the  horse  dashed  the  four-wheeled 
chaise  against  a  wooden  bridge,  separated  the  wheels  from 
the  body,  and  finally  stood  stock  still  to  gaze  upon  the 
ruin  he  had  made. 

The  first  care  of  the  two  unspilt  friends  was  to  help 


-96  211  8«- 


MR.    PICKWICK   DRIVES 


■^  212  8<- 

their  unfortunate  companions  from  their  bed  of  quickset, 
—  a  process  which  gave  thein  the  satisfaction  of  discov- 
ering that  they  had  sustained  no  injury  beyond  sundry 
rents  in  their  garments,  and  various  scratches  from  the 
brambles.  The  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  unharness 
the  horse.  This  complicated  process  having  been  finally 
effected,  the  four  gentlemen  walked  slowly  forward,  lead- 
ing the  horse  among  them,  and  abandoning  the  chaise  to 
its  fate. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  four  friends  and 
their  four-footed  companion  turned  into  the  lane  leading  to 
Manor  Farm ;  and  even  when  they  were  so  near  their 
place  of  destination,  the  pleasure  they  would  have  other- 
wise experienced  was  damped  as  they  reflected  on  their 
appearance,  and  the  absurdity  of  their  situation. 

Torn  clothes,  lacerated  faces,  dusty  shoes,  exhausted 
looks,  and,  above  all,  the  horse  !  Oh,  how  Mr.  Pickwick 
cursed  that  horse !  He  had  eyed  the  noble  animal  from 
time  to  time  with  looks  expressive  of  hatred  and  revenge ; 
more  than  once  he  had  calculated  the  probable  amount  of 
the  expense  he  would  incur  by  cutting  his  throat ;  and 
now  the  temptation  to  destroy  him,  or  to  cast  him  loose 
upon  the  world,  rushed  upon  his  mind  with  tenfold  force. 
He  was  roused  from  a  meditation  of  these  dire  imaginings 
by  the  sudden  appearance  of  two  figures  at  a  turn  of  the 
lane.  It  was  Mr.  Wardle  and  his  faithful  attendant,  the 
fat  boy. 


^  213  Q^ 

"  Why,  where  ham  you  been  ?  "  said  the  hospitable  old 
gentleman ;  "  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  all  day.  Well, 
you  do  look  tired.  What !  Scratches  !  Not  hurt,  I  hope 
—  eh  ?  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  —  very.  So  you've 
been  spilt,  eh  ?  Never  mind.  Common  accident  in  these 
parts.  Joe  —  he's  asleep  again  !  —  Joe,  take  that  horse 
from  the  gentleman,  and  lead  it  into  the  stable." 

The  fat  boy  sauntered  heavily  behind  them  with  the 
animal ;  and  the  old  gentleman,  condoling  with  his  guests 
in  homely  phrase  on  so  much  of  the  day's  adventures  as 
they  thought  proper  to  comnumicate,  led  the  way  to  the 
kitchen. 

"  We'll  have  you  put  to  rights  here,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman, '•  and  then  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  people  in  the 
parlor.  Emma,  bring  a  needle  and  thread ;  towels  and 
water,  Mary.     Come,  girls,  bustle  about." 

When  his  guests  had  been  washed,  mended,  and 
brushed,  Mr.  Wardle  led  them  through  several  dark  pas- 
sages, until  they  arrived  at  the  parlor  door. 

"Welcome,"  said  their  hospitable  host,  throwing  the 
door  open  and  stepping  forward  to  announce  them,  "wel- 
come, gentlemen,  to  Manor  Farm." 

—  Charles  Dickens. 


■^  214  »- 


MR.   WINKLE   SKATES! 


depicted  ^ 

impetuous 

reference 

dexterity 

remonstrated 


frenzied 

prodigies 

spectator 

extricated 

testimony 


spasmodic 

disengage 

marvellous 

evolutions 

lineament 


emphatic 

predecessor 

probability 

unparalleled 

invigorating 


On  Christmas  morning  Mr.  Wardle  invited  Mr.  Pick- 
wick, Mr.  Snodgrass,  Mr.  Tupman,  Mr.  Winkle,  and  his 
other  guests  to  go  down  to  the  pond. 

*^You  skate,  of  course,  Winkle?"  said  Mr.  Wardle. 

"Ye — s:  oh!  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle.  "I — I  — 
am  rather  out  of  practice." 

"  Oh,  do  skate,  Mr.  Winkle,"  said  Arabella.  "  I  like 
to  see  it  so  much." 

"  Oh,  it  is  so  graceful,"  said  another  young  lady. 

A  third  young  lady  said  it  was  "  elegant,"  and  a  fourth 
expressed  her  opinion  that  it  was  "  swanlike." 

"  I  should  be  very  happy,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mr.  Winkle, 
reddening,  "  but  I  have  no  skates." 

This  objection  was  at  once  overruled.  Trundle  had 
a  couple  of  pairs,  and  the  fat  boy  announced  that  there 
were  half  a  dozen  more  downstairs  ;  whereat  Mr.  Winkle 
expressed  exquisite  delight,  and  looked  exquisitely  uncom- 
fortable. 


1  See  note  on  page  263. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-«  215  8«- 

Mr.  Wardle  led  the  way  to  a  pretty  large  sheet  of  ice ; 
and  the  fat  boy  and  Mr.  Weller  having  shovelled  and 
swept  away  the  snow  wliich  had  fallen  on  it  during  the 
night,  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer  adjusted  his  skates  with  a  dex- 
terity which  to  Mr.  Winkle  was  perfectly  marvellous,  and 
described  circles  with  his  left  leg,  and  cut  figures  of  eight, 
and  inscribed  upon  the  ice,  without  once  stopping  for 
breath,  a  great  many  other  pleasant  and  astonishing 
devices, — to  the  excessive  satisfaction  of  Mr.  Pickwick, 
Mr.  Tupman,  and  the  ladies, —  which  reached  a  pitch  of 
positive  enthusiasm,  when  Mr.  Wardle  and  Benjamin 
Allen,  assisted  by  Bob  Sawyer,  performed  some  mystic 
evolutions,  which  they  called  a  reel. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Winkle,  with  his  face  and  hands 
blue  with  the  cold,  had  been  forcing  a  gimlet  into  the 
soles  of  his  shoes,  and  putting  his  skates  on,  with  the 
points  behind,  and  getting  the  straps  into  a  very  com- 
plicated state,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Snodgrass,  who 
knew  rather  less  about  skates  than  a  Hindoo.  At  length, 
however,  with  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Weller,  the  unfor- 
tunate skates  were  firmly  screwed  and  buckled  on,  and 
Mr.  Winkle  was  raised  to  his  feet. 

''  Now,  then,  sir,"  said  Sam,  in.  an  encouraging  tone, 
•  off  with  you,  and  show  them  how  to  do  it." 

"  Stop,  Sam,  stop  !  "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  trembling  vio- 
lently, and  clutching  hold  of  Sam's  arms  with  the  grasp 
of  a  drowning  man.     "  How  slippery  it  is,  Sam  ! " 


-«  216  S«- 

'^Not  an  uncommon  thing  upon  ice,  sir,"  replied  Mr. 
Weller.     "  Hold  up,  sir  !  " 

This  last  observation  of  Mr.  Weller' s  bore  reference 
to  a  demonstration  Mr.  Winkle  made  at  the  instant  of  a 
frantic  desire  to  throw  his  feet  in  the  air,  and  dash  the 
back  of  his  head  on  the  ice. 

"These  —  these  —  are  very  awkward  skates;  aren't 
they,  Sam  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Winkle,  staggering. 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  an  awkward  gentleman  in  'em, 
sir,"  replied  Sam. 

"  Now,  Winkle,"  cried  Mr.  Pickwick,  quite  uncon- 
scious that  there  was  anything  the  matter.  "Come;  the 
ladies  are  all  anxiety." 

"Yes,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Winkle,  with  a  ghastly  smile. 
"  I'm  coming." 

"  Just  going  to  begin,"  said  Sam,  endeavoring  to  dis- 
engage himself.     "  Now,  sir,  start  off  !  " 

"  Stop  an  instant,  Sam,"  gasped  Mr.  Winkle,  clinging 
most  affectionately  to  Mr.  Weller.  "  I  find  I've  got  a 
couple  of  coats  at  home  that  I  don't  want,  Sam.  You 
may  have  them,  Sam." 

"Thank  'ee,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Never  mind  touching  your  hat,  Sam,"  said  Mr. 
Winkle,  hastily.  "You  needn't  take  your  hand  away 
to  do  that.  I  meant  to  have  given  you  five  shillings  this 
morning  for  a  Christmas-box,  Sam.  I'll  give  it  to  you 
this  afternoon,  Sam." 


-^  217  ^ 


MR.   WINKLE  SKATES 


-^  218  ^ 

"  You're  wery  good,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Weller. 

"  Just  hold  me  at  first,  Sam,  will  you  ? "  said  Mr. 
Winkle.  "There  —  that's  right.  I  shall  soon  get  in  the 
way  of  it,  Sam.     Not  too  fast,  Sam ;  not  too  fast." 

Mr.  Winkle,  stooping  forward,  with  his  body  half 
doubled  up,  was  being  assisted  over  the  ice  by  Mr. 
Weller,  in  a  very  singular  and  unswanlike  manner,  when 
Mr.  Pickwick  most  innocently  shouted  from  the  bank, 
"  Sam !  " 

"Sir?" 

"  Here.     I  want  you." 

"  Let  go,  sir,"  said  Sam.  "  Don't  you  hear  the  gov- 
ernor calling  ?     Let  go,  sir." 

With  a  violent  effort,  Mr.  Weller  disengaged  himself 
from  the  grasp  of  the  agonized  Pickwickian,  and  in 
so  doing,  administered  a  considerable  impetus  to  the 
unhappy  Mr.  Winkle.  With  an  accuracy  which  no 
degree  of  dexterity  or  practice  could  have  insured,  that 
unfortunate  gentleman  bore  swiftly  down  into  the  centre 
of  the  reel,  at  the  very  moment  when  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer 
was  performing  a  flourish  of  unparalleled  beauty.  '  Mr. 
Winkle  struck  wildly  against  him,  and  with  a  loud  crash 
they  both  fell  heavily.  Mr.  Pickwick  ran  to  the  spot. 
Bob  Sawyer  had  risen  to  his  feet,  but  Mr.  Winkle  was 
far  too  wise  to  do  anything  of  the  kind  in  skates.  He 
was  seated  on  the  ice,  making  spasmodic  efforts  to  smile ; 
but  anguish  was  depicted  on  every  lineament  of  his  face. 


^  219  e^ 

"Are  you  hurt?"  inquired  Mr.  Benjamin  Allen,  with 
great  anxiety. 

"  Not  much/'  said  Mr.  Winkle,  rubbing  his  back  very 
hard. 

Mr.  Pickwick  was  excited  and  indignant.  He  beck- 
oned to  Mr.  Weller,  and  said  in  a  stern  voice,  "  Take  his 
skates  off." 

"  No  ;  but  really  I  had  scarcely  begun,"  remonstrated 
Mr.  Winkle. 

"  Take  his  skates  off,"  repeated  Mr.  Pickwick  firmly. 

The  command  was  not  to  be  resisted.  Mr.  Winkle 
allowed  Sam  to  obey  it  in  silence. 

"Lift  him  up,"  said  Mr.  Pickwick.  Sam  assisted  him 
to  rise. 

Mr.  Pickwick  retired  a  few  paces  apart  from  the 
bystanders ;  and  beckoning  his  friend  to  approach,  fixed 
a  searching  look  upon  him,  and  uttered  in  a  low  but 
distinct  and  emphatic  tone,  these  remarkable  words, 
"  You're  a  humbug,  sir." 

"  A  what  ?  "  said  Mr.  Winkle,  starting. 

"  A  humbug,  sir.  I  will  speak  plainer,  if  you  wish  it. 
An  impostor,  sir." 

With  those  words  Mr.  Pickwick  turned  slowly  on  his 
heel,  and  rejoined  his  friends. 

While  Mr.  Pickwick  was  delivering  himself  of  the 
sentiment  just  recorded,  Mr.  Weller  and  the  fat  boy, 
having  by  their   joint  endeavors  cut  out  a  slide,  were 


-^  220  d^ 

exercising  themselves  thereupon  in  a  very  masterly  and 
brilliant  manner.  Sam  Weller,  in  particular,  was  dis- 
playing that  beautiful  feat  of  fancy  sliding  which  is  cur- 
rently called  "  knocking  at  the  cobbler's  door,"  and  which 
is  achieved  by  skimming  over  the  ice  on  one  foot,  and 
occasionally  giving  a  postman's  knock  upon  it  with  the 
other.  It  was  a  good  long  slide,  and  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  motion  which  Mr.  Pickwick,  who  was  very 
cold  with  standing  still,  could  not  help  envying. 

"  It  looks  like  a  nice  warm  exercise  that,  doesn't  it  ?  " 
he  inquired  of  Mr.  Wardle. 

"Ah,  it  does  indeed,"  replied  Wardle.  "Do  you 
slide  ?  " 

"  I  used  to  do  so  on  the  gutters,  when  I  was  a  boy," 
replied  Mr:  Pickwick. 

"  Try  it  now,"  said  Wardle. 

"  Oh,  do,  please,  Mr.  Pickwick !  "  cried  all  the  ladies. 

"  I  should  be  very  happy  to  afford  you  any  amuse- 
ment," replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  "  but  I  haven't  done  such 
a  thing  these  thirty  years." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  Nonsense  !  "  said  Wardle,  dragging  off 
his  skates  with  the  impetuosity  which  characterized  all 
his  proceedings.  "  Here,  I'll  keep  you  company ;  come 
along ! "  And  away  went  the  good-tempered  old  fellow 
down  the  slide,  with  a  rapidity  which  came  very  close 
upon  Mr.  Weller,  and  beat  the  fat  boy  all  to  nothing. 

Mr.  Pickwick  paused,  considered,  pulled  off  his  gloves 


-^  221  8«- 

and  put  them  in  his  hat,  took  two  or  three  short  runs, 
stopped  as  often,  and  at  last  took  another  run  and  went 
slowly  and  gravely  down  the  slide,  with  his  feet  about  a 
yard  and  a  quarter  apart,  amidst  the  gratified  shouts  of  all 
the  spectators. 

"Keep  the  pot  a-boiling,  sir,"  said  Sam;  and  down 
went  Wardle  again,  and  then  Mr.  Pickwick,  and  then  Sam, 
and  then  Mr.  Winkle,  and  then  Mr.  Bob  Sawyer,  and  then 
the  fat  boy,  and  then  Mr.  Snodgrass,  following  closely 
upon  each  other's  heels,  and  running  after  each  other  with 
as  much  eagerness  as  if  all  their  future  prospects  in  life 
depended  on  their  expedition. 

It  was  the  most  intensely  interesting  thing  to  observe 
the  manner  in  which  Mr.  Pickwick  performed  his  share  in 
the  ceremony ;  to  w^atcli  the  torture  of  anxiety  with  which 
he  viewed  the  person  behind  gaining  upon  him  at  the 
imminent  hazard  of  tripping  him  up ;  to  see  him  gradually 
expend  the  painful  force  he  had  put  on  at  first,  and  turn 
slowly  round  on  the  slide,  with  his  face  toward  the  point 
from  which  he  had  started ;  to  contemplate  the  playful 
smile  w^hich  mantled  his  face  when  he  had  accomplished 
the  distance,  and  the  eagerness  with  which  he  turned 
round  when  he  had  done  so  and  ran  after  his  predecessor ; 
his  black  gaiters  tripping  pleasantly  through  the  snow,  and 
his  eyes  beaming  cheerfulness  and  gladness  through  his 
spectacles;  and  when  he  was  knocked  down  (which 
happened  on  the  average  of  every  third  round),  it  was 


-^  222  8<- 

the  most  invigorating  sight  that  can  possibly  be  imagined 
to  behold  him  gather  up  his  hat,  gloves,  and  handkerchief, 
with  a  glowing  countenance,  and  resume  his  station  in  the 
rank  with  an  ardor  and  enthusiasm  that  nothing  could 
abate. 

The  sport  was  at  its  height,  the  sliding  was  at  the 
quickest,  the  laughter  was  at  the  loudest,  when  a  sharp, 
smart  crack  was  heard.  There  was  a  quick  rush  toward 
the  bank,  a  wild  scream  from  the  ladies,  and  a  shout  from 
Mr.  Tupman.  A  large  mass  of  ice  disappeared  ;  the  water 
bubbled  up  over  it ;  Mr.  Pickwick's  hat,  gloves,  and 
handkerchief  were  floating  on  the  surface,  and  this  was 
all  of  Mr.  Pickwick  that  anybody  could  see. 

Dismay  and  anguish  were  depicted  on  every  counte- 
nance ;  the  men  turned  pale  and  the  women  fainted ; 
Mr.  Snodgrass  and  Mr.  Winkle  grasped  each  other  by 
the  hand,  and  gazed  with  frenzied  eagerness  at  the  spot 
where  their  leader  had  gone  down ;  while  Mr.  Tupman, 
by  way  of  rendering  the  promptest  assistance,  ran  off 
across  the  country  at  his  utmost  speed,  screaming  "  Fire  !  " 
with  all  his  might. 

It  was  at  this  moment,  when  Mr.  Wardle  and  Sam 
Weller  were  approaching  the  hole  with  cautious  steps,  that 
a  face,  head,  and  shoulders  emerged  from  beneath  the  water, 
and  disclosed  the  features  and  spectacles  of  Mr.  Pickwick. 

"Keep  yourself  up  for  an  instant  —  for  only  one 
instant ! "  bawled  Mr.  Snodgrass. 


^  223  8«- 

"  Yes,  do,  let  me  implore  you  —  for  my  sake  !  "  roared 
Mr.  Winkle,  deeply  affected. 

"  Do  you  feel  the  bottom  there,  old  fellow  ? "  said 
Wardle. 

"  Yes,  certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Pickwick,  wringing  the 
water  from  his  head  and  face,  and  gasping  for  breath. 
"  I  fell  upon  my  back.     I  couldn't  get  on  my  feet  at  first." 

The  clay  upon  so  much  of  Mr.  Pickwick's  coat  as  was 
yet  visible  bore  testimony  to  the  truth  of  this  statement ; 
and  as  the  fears  of  the  spectators  were  still  further 
relieved  by  the  fat  boy's  suddenly  recollecting  that  the 
water  was  nowhere  more  than  five  feet  deep,  prodigies  of 
valor  were  performed  to  get  him  out.  After  a  vast  quan- 
tity of  splashing,  and  cracking,  and  struggling,  Mr.  Pick- 
wick was  at  length  fairly  extricated  from  his  unpleasant 
position,  and  once  more  stood  on  dry  land. 

'-  Oh,  he'll  catch  his  death  of  cold,"  said  Emily. 

"  Let  me  wrap  this  shawl  round  you,"  said  Arabella. 

"Ah,  that's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Wardle; 
"  and  when  you've  got  it  on,  run  home  as  fast  as  your  legs 
can  carry  you,  and  jump  into  bed  directly." 

A  dozen  shawls  were  offered  on  the  instant.  Three 
or  four  of  the  thickest  having  been  selected,  Mr.  Pickwick 
was  wrapped  up,  and  started  off,  under  the  guidance  of 
Mr.  Weller,  presenting  the  singular  appearance  of  an 
elderly  gentleman,  dripping  wet,  and  without  a  hat,  with 
his  arms  bound  down  to  his   sides,   skimming  over  the 


-^  224  »- 

ground,  without  any  clearly  defined  purpose,  at  the  rate 
of  six  good  English  miles  an  hour. 

But  Mr.  Pickwick  cared  not  for  appearances  in  such 
an  extreme  case,  and  urged  on  Ipy  Mr.  Weller,  he  kept  at 
the  very  top  of  his  speed  until  he  reached  the  door  of 
Manor  Farm,  where  he  paused  not  an  instant  till  he  was 
snug  in  hed/  —  chables  dickens. 

EACH   AND   ALL 

Little  thinks,  in  the  field,  yon  red-cloaked  clown 

Of  thee  from  the  hilltop  looking  down ; 

The  heifer  that  lows  in  the  upland  farm. 

Far  heard,  lows  not  thine  ear  to  charm ; 

The  sexton,  tolling  his  bell  at  noon, 

Deems  not  that  great  Napoleon 

Stops  his  horse,  and  lists  with  delight, 

Whilst  his  files  sweep  round  yon  Alpine  height ; 

Nor  knowest  thou  what  argument 

Thy  life  to  thy  neighbor's  creed  has  lent. 

All  are  needed  by  each  one ; 

Nothing  is  fair  or  good  alone. 

I  thought  the  sparrow's  note  from  heaven, 
Singing  at  dawn  on  the  alder  bough  ; 
I  brought  him  home,  in  his  nest,  at  even ;  ' 
He  sings  the  song,  but  it  cheers  not  now. 
For  I  did  not  bring  home  the  river  and  sky ; 
He  sang  to  my  ear,  —  they  sang  to  my  eye. 


^  225  B«- 

The  delicate  shells  lay  on  the  shore ; 

The  bubbles  of  the  latest  wave 

Fresh  pearls  to  their  enamel  gave, 

And  the  bellowing  of  the  savage  sea 

Greeted  their  safe  escape  to  me. 

I  wiped  away  the  weeds  and  foam, 

I  fetched  my  sea-born  treasures  home ; 

But  the  poor,  unsightly,  noisome  things 

Had  left  their  beauty  on  the  shore 

With  the  sun  and  the  sand  and  the  wild  uproar. 

Then  I  said,  "  I  covet  truth ; 

Beauty  is  unripe  childhood's  cheat ; 

I  leave  it  behind  with  the  games  of  youth  :  —  " 

As  I  spoke,  beneath  my  feet 

The  ground  pine  curled  its  pretty  wreath, 

Running  over  the  club  moss  burs ; 

I  inhaled  the  violet's  breath ; 

Around  me  stood  the  oaks  and  firs; 

Pine  cones  and  acorns  lay  on  the  ground ; 

Over  me  soared  the  eternal  sky, 

Eull  of  light  and  of  deity ; 

Again  I  saw,  again  I  heard, 

The  rolling  river,  the  morning  bird ; 

Beauty  through  my  senses  stole ; 

I  yielded  myself  to  the  perfect  whole. 

—  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


■^  226  8«- 
GULLIVER'S  VOYAGE  TO  LILLIPUT 


posture  ^ 

inured 

dexterity 

retinue 

jerkin 

conveyed 

metropolis 

excessive 

imperial 

surveyed 

encompassed 

frequently 

edifice 

prodigious 

magnificence 

apprehensive 

On  the  fifth  of  November,  which  was  the  beginning  of 
summer  in  the  South  Sea,  we  spied  a  rock  within  half  a 
cable's  length  of  the  ship ;  but  the  wind  was  so  strong 
that  we  were  driven  directly  upon  it,  and  immediately 
wrecked.  Six  of  the  crew,  of  whom  I  was  one,  having 
let  down  the  boat  into  the  sea,  succeeded  in  getting  clear 
of  the  ship  and  rock. 

We  trusted  ourselves  to  the  mercy  of  the  waves,  and 
in  about  half  an  hour  the  boat  was  overturned  by  a  sudden 
gust  from  the  north.  What  became  of  my  companions  in 
the  boat,  as  well  as  those  who  escaped  on  the  rock,  I  could 
not  tell,  but  I  concluded  that  they  were  all  lost. 

For  my  own  part,  I  swam  as  fortune  directed  me,  and 
was  pushed  forward  by  wind  and  tide.  I  was  almost 
exhausted,  when  I  suddenly  found  myself  within  my 
depth  ;  and  by  this  time  the"  storm  was  much  abated.  I 
walked  nearly  a  mile  before  I  got  to  the  shore;  and  then 
advanced  nearly  half  a  mile  across  the  country,  but  could 
not  discover  any  sign  of  houses  or  inhabitants. 

1  See  note  on  page  263. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


^  227  ^ 

I  was  extremely  tired,  and  with  that,  and  the  heat  of 
the  weather,  I  found  myself  much  inclined  to  sleep.  I 
lay  down  on  the  grass,  which  was  very  short  and  soft, 
where  I  slept  more  soundly  than  ever  I  remember  to  have 
done  in  my  life.  When  I  waked,  it  was  just  daylight. 
I  attempted  to  rise,  but  was  not  able  to  stir ;  for  as  I 
happened  to  lie  on  my  back,  I  found  my  arms  and  legs 
were  strongly  fastened  on  each  side  to  the  ground ;  and 
my  hair,  which  was  long  and  thick,  was  tied  down  in  the 
same  manner.  I  heard  a  confused  noise  about  me ;  but 
in  the  posture  I  lay,  could  see  nothing  but  the  sky. 

In  a  little  while  I  felt  something  alive  moving  on  my 
left  leg,  which  advancing  gently  forward  on  my  breast, 
came  almost  up  to  my  chin  ;  then  turning  my  eyes  down- 
ward as  much  as  I  could,  I  perceived  it  to  be  a  human 
creature  not  six  inches  high,  with  a  bow  and  arrow  in  his 
hands,  and  a  quiver  at  his  back.  In  the  meantime,  I  felt 
at  least  forty  more  of  the  same  kind  following  the  first. 
I  was  in  the  utmost  astonishment,  and  roared  so  loudly, 
that  they  all  ran  back  in  a  fright ;  and  some  of  them,  as 
I  was  afterward  told,  were  hurt  with  the  falls  they  got 
by  leaping  from  my  sides  upon  the  ground.  They  soon 
returned,  however,  and  one  of  them,  who  ventured  so  far 
as  to  get  a  full  sight  of  my  face,  lifting  up  his  hands  and 
eyes  by  way  of  admiration,  said  a  few  words  in  a  shrill 
voice ;  the  others  repeated  these  words  several  times,  but 
I  knew  not  what  they  meant. 


-^  228  ^ 

I  lay  all  this  while,  in  great  uneasiness ;  at  length, 
struggling  to  get  loose,  I  had  the  fortune  to  break  the 
strings,  and  wrench  out  the  pegs  that  fastened  my  left 
arm  to  the  ground.  At  the  same  time,  with  a  violent 
pull,  which  gave  me  excessive  pain,  I  loosened  the  strings 
that  tied  down  my  hair  on  the  left  side,  so  that  I  was 
able  to  turn  my  head  about  two  inches.  But  the  crea- 
tures ran  o:ff  a  second  time,  before  I  could  seize  them; 
whereupon  there  was  a  great  shout  in  a  very  shrill 
accent,  and  in  an  instant  I  felt  a  hundred  arrows  dis- 
charged on  my  left  hand,  which  pricked  me  like  so  many 
needles. 

When  this  shower  of  arrows  was  over,  I  tried  again 
to  get  loose,  but  they  discharged  another  volley  larger 
than  the  first,  and  some  of  them  attempted  with  spears 
to  stick  me  in  the  sides.  By  good  luck  I  had  on  a  buff 
jerkin,  which  they  could  not  pierce.  I  thought  it  the 
most  prudent  method  to  lie  still,  and  when  the  people 
observed  that  I  was  quiet,  they  discharged  no  more 
arrows ;  but  by  the  noise  I  heard,  I  knew  their  numbers 
increased ;  and  about  four  yards  from  me,  near  my  right 
ear,  I  heard  a  knocking  for  more  than  an  hour,  like  that 
of  people  at  work.  On  turning  my  head  that  way,  as 
well  as  the  pegs  and  strings  would  permit  me,  I  saw  a 
stage  erected  about  a  foot  and  a  half  from  the  ground, 
capable  of  holding  four  of  the  inhabitants,  with  two  or 
three  ladders  to  mount  it;   from  whence  one  of  them, 


^  229  8«- 

who  seemed  to  be  a  person  of  quality,  made  me  a  long 
speech,  whereof  I  understood  not  one  syllable. 

I  answered  in  a  few  words,  but  in  a  most  submissive 
manner,  and  being  almost  famished  with  hunger,  I  could 
not  forbear  showing  my  impatience  by  putting  my  finger 
frequently  to  my  mouth,  to  signify  that  I  wanted  food. 
The  orator  then  descended  from  the  stage,  and  com- 
manded that  several  ladders  should  be  applied  to  my 
sides,  on  which  a  hundred  of  the  inhabitants  mounted, 
and  walked  toward  my  mouth,  laden  with  baskets  full 
of  meat,  which  had  been  provided  and  sent  thither  by 
the  king's  orders. 

I  observed  there  was  the  flesh  of  several  animals,  but 
could  not  distinguish  them  by  the  taste.  There  were 
shoulders,  legs,  and  loins,  shaped  like  those  of  mutton, 
and  very  well  dressed,  but  smaller  than  the  wings  of  a 
lark.  I  ate  them  by  two  or  three  at  a  mouthful,  and 
took  three  loaves  of  bread  at  a  time,  about  the  size  of 
musket  bullets.  They  supplied  me  as  fast  as  they  could, 
showing  a  thousand  marks  of  wonder  and  astonishment 
at  my  appetite. 

I  then  made  another  sign  that  I  wanted  drink.  They 
found  by  my  eating  that  a  small  quantity  would  not 
suffice  me,  and  slung  up  with  great  dexterity  one  of 
their  largest  hogsheads,  then  rolled  it  toward  my  hand, 
and  beat  out  the  top.  I  drank  it  off  at  a  draught,  which 
I  might  well  do,  for  it  did  not  hold  half  a  pint.    A  second 


-^  230  B«- 

hogshead  I  drank  in  the  same  manner,  and  made  signs 
for  more;  but  they  had  none  to  give  me. 

When  I  had  performed  these  wonders,  they  shouted 
for  joy,  and  danced  upon  my  breast.  I  confess  I  was 
often  tempted,  while  they  were  passing  to  and  fro  on  my 
body,  to  seize  forty  or  fifty  of  the  first  that  came  in  my 
reach,  and  dash  them  against  the  ground.  But  I  now 
considered  myself  as  bound  by  the  laws  of  hospitality  to 
a  people  who  had  treated  me  with  so  much  expense  and 
magnificence. 

After  some  time,  when  they  observed  that  I  made  no 
more  demands  for  food,  there  appeared  before  me.  a  person 
of  high  rank  from  his  imperial  majesty.  His  excellency 
having  mounted  on  my  ankle,  advanced  forward  up  to 
my  face,  with  a  dozen  of  his  retinue,  and  spoke  about 
ten  minutes,  pointing  forward,  which,  as  I  afterward 
found,  was  toward  the  capital  city,  about  a  half  a  mile 
distant ;  whither  it  was  agreed  by  his  majesty  that  I 
must  be  conveyed.  I  made  a  sign  with  my  hand  that 
was  loose,  to  signify  that  I  desired  my  liberty.  It 
appeared  that  he  understood  me,  for  he  shook  his  head 
and  held  his  hand  in  a  posture  to  show  that  I  must  be 
carried  as  a  prisoner. 

However,  he  made  other  signs  to  let  me  understand 
that  I  should  have  meat  and  drink  enough,  and  very  good 
treatment.  Soon  after  I  heard  a  general  shout,  and  I  felt 
great   numbers  of  people  on  my  left  side  relaxing   the 


-^  231  8€- 

cords  to  such  a  degree  that  I  was  able  to  turn  upon  my 
right  side. 

It  seems  that  when  I  was  discovered  sleeping  on  the 
ground,  after  my  landing,  the  emperor  had  notice  of  it 
by  a  messenger,  and  he  determined  that  I  should  be  tied 
while  I  slept,  that  plenty  of  meat  and  drink  should  be 
sent  me,  and  a  machine  prepared  to  carry  me  to  the 
capital  city. 

This  emperor  has  several  machines  fixed  on  wheels 
for  the  carriage  of  trees  and  other  great  weights.  He 
often  builds  his  largest  men-of-war,  whereof  some  are 
nine  feet  long,  in  the  woods  where  the  timber  grows, 
and  has  them  carried  on  these  engines  three  or  four 
hundred  yards  to  the  sea.  Five  hundred  carpenters  and 
engineers  were  immediately  set  at  work  to  prepare  the 
greatest  engine  they  had.  It  was  a  frame  of  wood  raised 
three  inches  from  the  ground,  about  seven  feet  long  and 
four  feet  wide,  and  moving  upon  twenty-two  wheels. 

The  shout  I  heard  was  upon  the  arrival  of  the  engine, 
which  set  out  in  four  hours  after  my  landing.  It  was 
brought  parallel  to  me  as  I  lay,  but  the  principal  difficulty 
was  to  raise  and  place  me  in  this  vehicle.  Eighty  poles, 
each  one  foot  high,  were  erected  for  this  purpose,  and 
very  strong  cords,  of  the  bigness  of  coarse  thread,  were 
fastened  by  hooks  to  many  bandages,  which  the  workmen 
had  tied  round  my  neck,  hands,  body,  and  legs.  Nine 
hundred  of  the  strongest  men  were  employed  to  draw  up 


-^  232  ^ 

these  cords,  by  many  pulleys  fastened  on  the  poles,  and 
thus,  in  less  than  three  hours,  I  was  raised  and  slung  into 
the  engine,  and  there  tied  fast.  All  this  I  was  told ;  for 
while  it  was  being  done,  I  lay  in  a  profound  sleep. 

Fifteen  hundred  of  the  emperor's  largest  horses,  each 
about  four  and  a  half  inches  high,  were  employed  to  draw 
me  toward  the  metropolis,  which  as  I  said  was  half  a 
mile  distant.  We  made  a  long  march  during  the  remain- 
ing part  of  the  day,  and  rested  at  night  with  five  hundred 
guards  on  each  side  of  me,  half  with  torches  and  half 
with  bows  and  arrows,  ready  to  shoot  me  if  I  should  offer 
to  stir. 

The  next  morning  at  sunrise  we  continued  our  march, 
and  arrived  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  city  gate 
about  noon.  The  emperor  and  all  his  court  came  out  to 
meet  us ;  but  his  officers  would  by  no  means  allow  his 
majesty  to  endanger  his  person  by  mounting  on  my 
body. 

At  the  place  where  the  carriage  stopped,  there  stood 
an  ancient  temple,  esteemed  to  be  the  largest  in  the  whole 
kingdom,  and  in  this  edifice  it  was  determined  I  should 
lodge.  On  each  side  of  the  gate  was  a  small  window,  not 
more  than  six  inches  from  the  ground,  and  into  the  one 
on  the  left  side,  the  king's  smiths  conveyed  four  score  and 
eleven  chains  (about  as  large  as  watch  chains),  which  were 
locked  to  my  left  leg  with  six-and-thirty  padlocks.  When 
the  workmen  found  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  break 


^  233  B^ 

loose,  they  cut  all  the  strings  that  bound  me,  whereupon 
I  rose  to  my  feet  and  looked  about  me. 

I  must  confess  that  I  never  beheld  a  more  entertain- 
ing prospect.  The  country  around  appeared  like  a  gar- 
den, and  the  enclosed  fields,  which  were  generally  forty 
feet  square,  resembled  so  many  flower-beds.  These  fields 
were  intermingled  with  woods,  and  the  tallest  trees,  as  I 
could  judge,  appeared  to  be  seven  feet  high.  I  viewed 
the  town  on  my  left  hand,  which  looked  like  the  painted 
scene  of  a  city  in  a  theatre. 

The  emperor  now  advanced  on  horseback  and  sur- 
veyed me  with  great  admiration,  but  kept  beyond  the 
length  of  my  chain.  He  ordered  his  cooks  and  butlers 
to  give  me  food  and  drink,  which  they  pushed  forward  in 
a  sort  of  vehicle  upon  wheels.  I  took  these  vehicles  and 
soon  emptied  them  all ;  twenty  of  them  were  filled  with 
meat,  and  ten  with  drink ;  each  of  the  former  afforded  me 
two  or  three  good  mouthfuls,  and  I  drank  off  the  liquid 
at  one  draught.  His  imperial  majesty  spoke  often  to  me, 
and  I  returned  answers ;  but  neither  of  us  could  under- 
stand a  syllable.  After  about  two  hours  the  court  retired, 
and  I  was  left  with  a  strong  guard. 

Toward  night  I  crept  with  some  difficulty  into  my 
house,  where  I  lay  on  the  ground,  and  continued  to  do  so 
for  about  a  fortnight ;  during  which  time  the  emperor 
gave  orders  to  have  a  bed  prepared  for  me.  Six  hundred 
beds  were  brought  in  carriages,  and  worked  up  in  my 


-^  234  B^ 

house ;  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  the  beds,  sewn  together, 
made  up  the  breadth  and  length,  and  these  were  four 
double ;  which,  however,  kept  me  but  indifferently  from 
the  hardness  of  the  stone  floor.  In  the  same  way,  they 
provided  me  with  sheets,  blankets,  and  coverlets,  good 
enough  for  one  who  had  been  so  long  inured  to  hardships. 

An  establishment  was  also  made  of  six  hundred  per- 
sons to  be  my  servants,  and  tents  were  built  for  them  very 
conveniently  on  each  side  of  my  door.  It  was  likewise 
ordered  that  three  hundred  tailors  should  make  me  a  suit 
of  clothes,  after  the  fashion  of  the  country  ;  that  six  of 
his  majesty's  greatest  scholars  should  be  employed  to  in- 
struct me  in  their  language  ;  and,  lastly,  that  the  emperor's 
horses,  and  those  of  the  nobility  and  troops  of  guards, 
should  be  frequently  exercised  in  m}^  sight,  to  accustom 
themselves  to  me. 

All  these  orders  were  duly  put  in  execution  ;  and  in 
about  three  weeks  I  made  great  progress  in  learning  their 
language  ;  during  which  time  the  emperor  frequently  hon- 
ored me  with  his  visits,  and  was  pleased  to  assist  my  mas- 
ters in  teaching  me.  My  gentleness  and  good  behavior 
had  gained  so  far  on  the  emperor  and  his  court,  and 
indeed  upon  the  army  and  people  in  general,  that  I  began 
to  conceive  hopes  of  getting  my  liberty  in  a  short  time.  I 
took  all  possible  methods  to  cultivate  this  favorable  dispo- 
sition. The  natives  came,  by  degrees,  to  be  less  apprehen- 
sive of  any  danger  from  me.    I  would  sometimes  lie  down 


-^  235  9«- 

and  let  five  or  six  of  tliem  dance  on  my  head  ;  and  at  last 
the  boys  and  girls  would  venture  to  come  and  play  hide- 
and-seek  in  my  hair. 

The  horses  of  the  army,  having  been  daily  led  before 
me,  were  no  longer  shy,  but  would  come  up  to  my  very 
feet  without  starting.  The  riders  would  leap  them  over 
my  hand,  as  I  held  it  on  the  ground  ;  and  one  of  the 
emperor's  huntsmen,  upon  a  large  courser,  took  my  foot, 
shoe  and  all ;  which  was  indeed  a  prodigious  leap. 

I  had  sent  so  many  petitions  for  my  liberty,  that  his 
majesty  at  length  mentioned  the  matter,  first  in  the  cabi- 
net, and  then  in  full  council,  where  it  was  opposed  by 
none. 

The  first  request  I  made  after  I  had  obtained  my  lib- 
erty was  that  I  might  hg^ve  permission  to  see  Mildendo, 
the  metropolis ;  which  the  emperor  readily  granted,  but 
with  a  special  charge  to  do  no  hurt  either  to  the  houses  or 
inhabitants.  The  people  had  notice,  by  proclamation,  of 
my  design  to  visit  the  town.  The  wall  which  encom- 
passed it  is  two  feet  and  a  half  high,  and  at  least  eleven 
inches  broad,  so  that  a  coach  and  horses  may  be  driven 
very  safely  round  it ;  and  it  is  flanked  with  strong  towers 
at  ten  feet  distance. 

I  stepped  over  the  great  western  gate,  and  passed  very 
gently  sideways  through  the  two  principal  streets,  wearing 
only  my  short  waistcoat,  for  fear  of  damaging  the  roofs 
and  eaves  of  the  houses  with  the  skirts  of  my  coat.     I 


^  236  e«- 

walked  with  the  utmost  care,  to  avoid  treading  on  any 
stragglers  who  might  remain  in  the  streets  ;  although  the 
orders  were  very  strict  that  all  people  should  keep  in  their 
houses  at  their  own  peril. 

The  garret  windows  and  tops  of  houses  were  so 
crowded  with  spectators  that  I  thought  in  all  my  travels 
I  had  not  seen  a  more  populous  place.  The  city  is  an 
exact  square,  each  side  of  the  wall  being  five  hundred  feet 
long.  The  two  great  streets  which  run  across  and  divide 
it  into  four  quarters  are  five  feet  wide.  The  lanes  and 
alleys,  which  I  could  not  enter,  but  only  viewed  as  I 
passed,  are  from  twelve  to  eighteen  inches.  The  town 
is  capable  of  holding  five  hundred  thousand  persons  ;  the 
houses  are  from  three  to  five  stories  high,  and  the  shops 
and  markets  are  well  provided. 

The  emperor  had  a  great  desire  that  I  should  see  his 
palace.  By  stepping  over  the  buildings  I  contrived  to 
get  into  the  inmost  court;  and  then,  lying  down  upon 
my  side,  I  looked  in  at  the  windows  of  the  middle  stories. 
There  I  saw  the  most  splendid  apartments  that  can  be 
imagined.  The  empress  smiled  at  me  from  one  of  the 
windows  and  gave  me  her  hand  to  kiss. 

—Jonathan  Swift. 


^  237  8«- 

TWO 

OLD    SOLDIERS  1 
Part  I 

deign  ^ 

assemble 

fluent 

Segovia 

route 

trumpeter 

pinioned 

Guadarama 

durance 

Morisco 

bandolero 

Escurial 

corporal 

Granada 

caparisoned 

Andalusia 

warrior 

Alhambra 

potentate 

contrabandista 

One  bright  summer  morning  a  patrol,  consisting  of 
a  corporal,  a  trumpeter,  and  two  privates,  was  seated 
beside  the  road  which  leads  dowm  from  the  Mountain  of 
the  Sun,  when  they  heard  the  tramp  of  a  horse,  and  a 
male  voice  singing  in  rough,  though  not  unmusical  tones, 
an  old  Castilian  campaigning  song. 

Presently  they  beheld  a  sturd}^,  sunburnt  fellow,  clad 
in  the  ragged  garb  of  a  foot-soldier,  leading  a  powerful 
Arabian  horse  caparisoned  in  the  ancient  Morisco  fashion. 

Astonished  at  the  sight  of  a  strange  soldier  descend- 
ing, steed  in  hand,  from  that  solitary  mountain,  the  cor- 
poral stepped  forth  and  challenged  him. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  " 

"  A  friend." 

"  Who  and  what  are  you  ?  " 

1  See  note  on  page  263. 

2  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-«  238  B^ 

"A  poor  soldier  just  from  the  wars,  with  a  cracked 
crown  and  empty  purse  for  a  reward." 

By  this  time  they  were  able  to  view  him  more  nar- 
rowly. He  had  a  black  patch  across  his  forehead,  a  griz- 
zled beard,  and  a  slight  squint  which  threw  into  his  face 
an  occasional  gleam  of  roguish  good-humor. 

Having  answered  the  questions  of  the  patrol,  the  sol- 
dier seemed  to  consider  himself  entitled  to  make  others  in 
return.  "  May  I  ask,"  said  he,  "  what  city  that  is  which 
I  see  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  ?  " 

"What  city!"  cried  the  trumpeter;  "come,  that  is 
too  bad.  Here's  a  fellow  lurking  about  the  Mountain 
of  the  Sun  and  demands  the  name  of  the  great  city  of 
Granada ! " 

"  Granada  !     Can  it  be  possible  ?  " 

"Perhaps  not!"  rejoined  the  trumpeter;  "and  per- 
haps you  have  no  idea  that  yonder  are  the  towers  of  the 
Alhambra." 

"  Son  of  a  trumpet,"  replied  the  stranger,  "  do  not 
trifle  with  me.  If  this  be  indeed  the  Alhambra,  I  have 
some  strange  matters  to  reveal  to  the  governor." 

"You  will  have  an  opportunity,"  said  the  corporal, 
"  for  we  mean  to  take  you  before  him."  The  trumpeter 
seized  the  bridle  of  the  steed,  the  two  privates  secured  an 
arm  of  the  soldier,  the  corporal  put  himself  in  front,  gave 
the  word  of  command,  "  Forward  t-  march  !  "  and  away 
they  marched  for  the  Alhambra. 


-«  239  B«- 

The  sight  of  a  ragged  foot-soldier  and  a  fine  Arabian 
horse,  brought  in  captive  by  the  patrol,  attracted  the  at- 
tention of  all  the  idlers  of  the  fortress,  and  of  those 
gossip  groups  that  generally  assemble  about  wells  and 
fountains  at  early  dawn.  A  motley  train  gradually 
gathered  in  the  rear  of  the  escort. 

Knowing  nods  and  winks  and  conjectures  passed  from 
one  to  another.  "  It  is  a  deserter,"  said  one  ;  "  A  contra- 
bandista,"  said  another;  "  A  bandolero,"  said  a  third;  — 
until  it  was  affirmed  that  a  captam  of  a  desperate  band  of 
robbers  had  been  captured  by  the  prowess  of  the  corporal 
and  his  patrol.  "  Well,  well,"  said  the  old  crones,  one  to 
another,  "  captain  or  not,  let  him  get  out  of  the  grasp  of 
old  Governor  Manco,  if  he  can,  though  he  is  but  one- 
handed." 

Governor  Manco  was  seated  in  one  of  the  inner  halls 
of  the  Alhambra,  taking  his  morning  cup  of  chocolate.  A 
demure,  dark-eyed  damsel,  the  daughter  of  the  house- 
keeper, was  attending  upon  him. 

When  word  was  brought  that  a  suspicious  stranger  had 
been  taken  lurking  about  the  fortress,  and  was  actually  in 
the  outer  court,  in  durance  of  the  corporal,  waiting  the 
pleasure  of  his  Excellency,  the  pride  and  stateliness  of 
office  swelled  the  bosom  of  the  governor.  Giving  back 
his  chocolate-cup  into  the  hands  of  the  demure  damsel,  he 
called  for  his  basket-hilted  sword,  girded  it  to  his  side, 
twirled  up  his  mustache,  took  his  seat  in  a  large  high- 


-^  240  3«- 

backed  chair,  assumed  a  forbidding  aspect,  and  ordered 
the  prisoner  into  his  presence.  The  soldier  was  brought 
in,  still  closely  pinioned  by  his  captors,  and  guarded  by 
the  corporal.  He  maintained,  however,  a  resolute,  self- 
confident  air,  and  returned  the  sharp,  scrutinizing  look  of 
the  governor  with  an  easy  squint,  which  by  no  means 
pleased  the  potentate. 

^^  Well,  culprit,"  said  the  governor,  after  he  had  re- 
garded him  for  a  moment  in  silence,  "  what  have  you  to 
say  for  yourself  —  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  A  soldier  from  the  wars,  who  has  brought  away 
nothing  but  scars  and  bruises." 

"  A  soldier  —  humph  —  a  foot-soldier  by  your  garb.  I 
understand  you  have  a  fine  Arabian  horse.  I  presume 
you  brought  him,  too,  from  the  wars,  besides  your  scars 
and  bruises." 

"May  it  please  your  Excellency,  I  have  something 
strange  to  tell  about  that  horse.  Indeed,  I  have  one  of 
the  most  wonderful  things  to  relate.  Something,  too,  that 
concerns  the  security  of  this  fortress,  indeed  of  all  Granada. 
But  it  is  a  matter  to  be  imparted  only  to  your  private  ear, 
or  in  the  presence  of  such  Only  as  are  in  your  confidence." 

The  governor  considered  for  a  moment,  and  then  di- 
rected the  corporal  and  his  men  to  withdraw,  but  to  post 
themselves  outside  of  the  door,  and  be  ready  at  a  call. 
"This  holy  friar,"  said  he,  "is  my  confessor,  you  may 
say  anything  in  his  presence;    and  this  damsel,"  nodding 


^  241  e«- 

toward  the  handmaid,  "  this  damsel  is  of  great  discretion, 
and  to  be  trusted  with  anything." 

When  all  the  rest  had  withdrawn,  the  soldier  com- 
menced his  story.  He  was  a  fluent,  smooth-tongued 
varlet,  and  had  a  command  of  language  above  his  ap- 
parent rank. 

"  May  it  please  your  Excellency,"  said  he,  "  I  am,  as  I 
before  observed,  a  soldier,  and  have  seen  some  hard  ser- 
vice, but  my  term  of  enlistment  being  expired,  I  w^as  dis- 
charged, not  long  since,  from  the  army,  and  set  out  on 
foot  for  my  native  village  in  Andalusia.  Yesterday  even- 
ing the  sun  went  down  as  I  was  traversing  a  great  dry 
plain  of  Old  Castile." 

"  Hold  !  "  cried  the  governor ;  "  what  is  this  you  say  ? 
Old  Castile  is  some  two  or  three  hundred  miles  from 
this." 

"  Even  so,"  replied  the  stranger,  coolly.  "  I  told  your 
Excellency  I  had  strange  things  to  relate ;  but  not  more 
strange  than  true,  as  your  Excellency  will  find,  if  you  will 
deign  me  a  patient  hearing." 

"  Proceed,  culprit,"  said  the  governor. 

"  As  the  sun  went  down,"  continued  the  soldier,  "  I 
cast  my  eyes  about  in  search  of  quarters  for  the  night, 
but  as  far  as  my  sight  could  reach  there  were  no  signs  of 
habitation.  I  saw  that  I  should  have  to  make  my  bed  on 
the  naked  plain,  with  my  knapsack  for  a  pillow ;  but  your 
Excellency  is  an  old  soldier,  and  knows  that  to  one  who 


-^  242  8<- 

has  been  in  the  wars  such  a  night's  lodging  is  no  great 
hardship." 

The  governor  nodded  assent. 

"  Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short/'  continued  the  sol- 
dier, "  I  trudged  forward  for  several  miles  until  I  came  to 
a  bridge  over  a  deep  ravine,  through  which  ran  a  little 
thread  of  water,  almost  dried  up  by  the  summer  heat. 
At  one  end  of  the  bridge  was  a  Moorish  tower,  the  upper 
end  all  in  ruins,  but  a  room  in  the  foundation  quite  entire. 
Here,  thinks  I,  is  a  good  place  to  make  a  halt ;  so  I  went 
down  to  the  stream,  and  took  a  hearty  drink,  for  the 
water  was  pure  and  sweet,  and  I  was  parched  with 
thirst ;  then,  opening  my  wallet,  I  took  out  an  onion  and 
a  few  crusts,  which  were  all  my  provisions,  and  seating 
myself  on  a  stone  on  the  margin  of  the  stream,  began  to 
make  my  supper,  —  intending  afterwards  to  quarter  my- 
self for  the  night  in  the  tower,  and  capital  quarters  they 
would  have  been  for  a  campaigner  just  from  the  wars,  as 
your  Excellency,  who  is  an  old  soldier,  may  suppose." 

"  I  have  put  up  gladly  with  worse  in  my  time,"  said 
the  governor. 

"  While  I  was  quietly  crunching  my  crusts,"  pursued 
the  soldier,  "  I  heard  something  stir  within  the  tower ;  I 
listened  —  it  was  the  tramp  of  a  horse.  By  and  by  a  man 
came  from  a  door  in  the  foundation  of  the  tower,  leading 
ia,  powerful  horse  by  the  bridle.  I  could  not  well  make 
out  what  he  was,  by  the  starlight.     It  had  a  suspicious 


-^  243  8«- 

look  to  be  lurking  among  the  ruins  of  a  tower,  in  that 
wild,  solitary  place.  He  might  be  a  mere  wayfarer  like 
myself;  he  might  be  a  contrabandista ;  he  might  be  a 
bandolero  !  what  of  tjiat !  thank  heaven  and  my  poverty, 
I  had  nothing  to  lose;  so  I  sat  still  and  crunched  my 
crust. 

"  He  led  his  horse  to  the  water,  close  by  where  I  was 
sitting,  so  that  I  had  a  fair  opportunity  of  looking  him 
over.  To  my  surprise  he  was  dressed  in  a  Moorish  garb, 
with  a  cuirass  of  steel.  His  horse,  too,  was  caparisoned 
in  the  Morisco  fashion,  with  great  stirrups.  He  led 
him,  as  I  said,  to  the  side  of  the  stream,  into  which  the 
animal  plunged  his  head  almost  to  the  eyes,  and  drank 
until  I  thought  he  would  have  burst. 

" '  Comrade,'  said  I,  '  your  steed  drinks  well ;  it  is  a 
good  sign  when  a  horse  plunges  his  muzzle  bravely  into 
the  water.' 

^' '  He  may  well  drink,'  said  the  stranger,  speaking 
with  a  Moorish  accent ;  ^  it  is  a  good  year  since  he  had 
his  last  draught.' 

" '  That  beats  even  the  camels  I  have  seen  in  Africa,' 
said  I.  '  But  come,  you  seem  to  be  something  of  a  soldier, 
will  you  sit  down  and  take  part  of  a  soldier's  fare  ? '  In 
fact,  I  felt  the  want  of  a  companion  in  this  lonely  place. 
Besides,  as  your  Excellency  well  knows,  a  soldier  is  never 
particular  about  his  company,  and  soldiers  of  all  countries 
are  comrades  on  peaceable  grounds." 


^  244  8«- 

The  governor  again  nodded  assent. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  invited  him  to  share  my 
supper,  such  as  it  was,  for  I  could  not  do  less  in  common 
hospitality.  ^I  have  no  time  to  pause  for  meat  or  drink,' 
said  he.    '  I  have  a  long  journey  to  make  before  morning.' 

"  '  In  what  direction  ? '  said  I. 

" '  Andalusia,'  said  he. 

" ' Exactly  my  route,'  said  I ;  'so,  as  you  won't  stop 
and  eat  with  me,  perhaps  you  will  let  me  mount  and  ride 
with  you.  I  see  your  horse  is  of  a  powerful  frame ;  I'll 
warrant  he'll  carry  double.' 

u  i  Agreed,'  said  the  trooper ;  and,  indeed,  it  would  not 
have  been  civil  and  soldier-like  for  him  to  refuse  my 
request,  especially  as  I  had  offered  to  share  my  supper 
with  him.  So  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  up  I  mounted 
behind  him. 

" '  Hold  fast,'  said  he.  '  My  steed  goes  like  the  wind, 
and  I  have  no  time  to  lose.' 

" '  Never  fear  for  me,'  said  I,  and  off  we  set. 

"  From  a  walk  the  horse  soon  passed  to  a  trot,  and 
from  a  trot  to  a  gallop,  and  from  a  gallop  to  a  harum- 
scarum  scamper.  It  seemed  as  if  rocks,  trees,  houses, 
everything,  flew  hurry-scurry  behind  us. 

"  '  What  town  is  this  ? '  said  I. 

" '  Segovia,'  said  he ;  and  before  the  words  were  out  of 
his  mouth  the  towers  of  Segovia  were  out  of  sight.  We 
swept  up  the  Guadarama   Mountains,  and  down  by  the 


^  245  S«- 

Escurial ;  and  we  skirted  the  walls  of  Madrid,  and  we 
scoured  away  across  the  plains  of  La  Mancha.  In  this  way 
we  went  up  hill  and  down  dale,  by  towers  and  cities,  all 
buried  in  deep  sleep,  and  across  mountains,  and  plains,  and 
rivers,  just  glimmering  in  the  starlight. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  and  not  to  fatigue  your 
Excellency,  the  trooper  suddenly  pulled  up  on  the  side  of 
a  mountain.  '  Here  we  are,'  said  he,  '  at  the  end  of  our 
journey.'  I  looked  about  but  could  see  no  signs  of  habi- 
tation, nothing  but  the  mouth  of  a  cavern.  While  I  looked 
I  saw  multitudes  of  people  in  Moorish  dress,  some  on  horse- 
back, some  on  foot,  arising  as  if  borne  by  the  wind  from 
all  points  of  the  compass,  hurrying  into  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern  like  bees  into  a  hive.  Before  I  could  ask  a  ques- 
tion, the  trooper  struck  his  long  Moorish  spurs  into  the 
horse's  flanks,  and  dashed  in  with  the  throng. 

"  We  passed  along  a  steep  winding  way,  that  descended 
into  the  very  depths  of  the  mountain.  ^  As  we  pushed  on, 
a  light  began  to  glimmer  up,  little  by  little,  like  the  first 
glimmerings  of  day,  but  what  caused  it  I  could  not  discern. 
It  grew  stronger  and  stronger,  and  enabled  me  to  see 
everything  around.  I  now  noticed,  as  we  passed  along, 
great  caverns  opening  to  the  right  and  left,  like  halls  in 
an  arsenal.  In  some  there  were  shields,  helmets,  lances 
and  cimeters,  hanging  against  the  walls ;  in  others  there 
were  great  heaps  of  warlike  munitions,  and  tent  equipage 
lying  upon  the  ground. 


-58  246  8«- 

*^It  would  have  done  your  Excellency's  heart  good, 
being  an  old  soldier^  to  have  seen  such  grand  provision  for 
war.  Then,  in  other  caverns,  there  were  long  rows  of 
horsemen  armed  to  the  teeth,  with  lances  raised  and  ban- 
ners unfurled,  all  ready  for  the  field ;  but  they  all  sat 
motionless  in  their  saddles,  like  so  many  statues.  In  other 
halls  were  warriors  sleeping  on  the  ground  beside  their 
horses,  and  foot-soldiers  in  groups  ready  to  fall  into 
the  rank.  All  were  in  old-fashioned  Moorish  dress  and 
armor. 

"  Well,  your  Excellency,  to  cut  a  long  story  short,  we 
at  length  entered  an  immense  cavern,  or  I  may  say  palace, 
of  grotto-work,  the  walls  of  which  seemed  to  be  veined 
with  gold  and  silver,  and  to  sparkle  with  diamonds  and 
sapphires,  and  all  kinds  of  precious  stones. 

"  At  the  upper  end  sat  a  Moorish  king  on  a  golden 
throne,  with  his  nobles  on  each  side,  and  a  guard  of 
soldiers  with  drawn  cimeters.  All  the  crowd  that  con- 
tinued to  flock  in,  and  amounted  to  thousands  and  thou- 
sands, passed  one  by  one  before  his  throne,  each  paying 
homage  as  he  passed.  Some  of  the  multitude  were  dressed 
in  magnificent  robes,  without  stain  or  blemish,  and  spark- 
ling with  jewels ;  others  were  clad  from  head  to  foot  in 
burnished  and  enamelled  armor;  while  others  were  in 
mouldered  and  mildewed  garments,  and  in  armor  all 
battered  and  dented  and  covered  with  rust. 

"  I  had  hitherto  held  my  tongue,  for  your  Excellency 


^  247  B«- 


THE   COURT  AND   ARMY  OF   BOABDIL 


-^  248  ^ 

well  knows  it  is  not  for  a  soldier  to  ask  many  questions 
when  on  duty,  but  I  could  keep  silent  no  longer. 

"  '  Prithee,  comrade,'  said  I,  '  what  is  the  meaning  of 
all  this  ? ' 

" '  This,'  said  the  trooper,  '  is  a  great  and  fearful  mys- 
tery. Know,  0  Christian,  that  you  see  before  you  the 
court  and  army  of  Boabdil,  the  last  king  of  Granada.' 

"  '  What  is  this  you  tell  me  ? '  said  I.  '  Boabdil  and 
his  court  were  exiled  from  the  land  hundreds  of  years 
ago,  and  all  died  in  Africa.' 

" '  So  it  is  recorded  in  your  lying  chronicles,'  replied 
the  Moor,  '  but  know  that  Boabdil  and  the  warriors  who 
made  the  last  struggle  for  Granada  were  all  shut  up  in  the 
mountain  by  powerful  enchantment.  And  furthermore 
let  me  tell  you,  friend,  that  all  Spain  is  a  country  under 
the  power  of  enchantment.  There  is  not  a  mountain- 
cave,  not  a  lonely  watch-tower  in  the  plains,  nor  ruined 
castle  on  the  hills,  but  has  some  spell-bound  warriors  sleep- 
ing from  age  to  age  within  its  vaults. 

" '  Once  every  year  they  are  released  from  enchant- 
ment from  sunset  to  sunrise,  and  permitted  to  repair  here 
to  pay  homage  to  their  sovereign ;  and  the  crowds  which 
you  beheld  swarming  into  the  cavern  are  Moslem  warriors 
from  their  haunts  in  all  parts  of  Spain.  For  my  own  part, 
you  saw  the  ruined  tower  of  the  bridge  in  Old  Castile, 
where  I  have  now  wintered  and  summered  for  many  hun- 
dred years,  and  where  I  must  be  back  again  by  daybreak. 


-«  249  B^ 

As  to  the  battalions  of  horse  and  foot  which  you  beheld 
drawn  up  in  array  in  the  neighboring  caverns,  they  are  the 
spellbound  warriors  of  Granada.  It  is  written  in  the  book 
of  fate,  that  when  the  enchantment  is  broken,  Boabdil  will 
descend  the  mountain  at  the  head  of  this  army,  resume 
his  throne  in  the  Alhambra  and  his  sway  of  Granada,  and 
gathering  together  the  enchanted  warriors  from  all  parts 
of  Spain,  will  reconquer  the  peninsula  and  restore  it  to 
the  Moslem  rule/ 

"  '  And  when  shall  this  happen  ? '  said  I. 

"  '  Allah  alone  knows  ;  we  had  hoped  the  day  of  deliv- 
erance was  at  hand ;  but  there  reigns  at  present  a  vigilant 
governor  in  the  Alhambra,  a  stanch  old  soldier,  well 
known  as  Governor  Manco.  While  such  a  warrior  holds 
command  of  the  very  outpost,  and  stands  ready  to  check 
the  first  eruption  from  the  mountain,  I  fear  Boabdil  and 
his  soldiery  must  be  content  to  rest  upon  their  arms.'  " 

Here  the  governor  raised  himself,  adjusted  his  sword, 
and  twirled  up  his  mustache. 

"  To  make  a  long  story  short,  and  not  to  fatigue  your 
Excellency,  the  trooper,  having  given  me  this  account,  dis- 
mounted from  his  steed. 

" '  Tarry  here,'  said  he,  '  and  guard  my  steed,  while  I 
go  and  bow  the  knee  to  Boabdil.'  So  saying,  he  strode 
away  among  the  throng  that  pressed  forward  to  the 
throne." 


-^  250  Q^ 

Part  II 

Toledo^ 

convoy 

visage 

hyena 

bolero 

tradition 

habitation 

function 

veteran 

decorum 

universal 

menagerie 

mollify 

fugitives 

mitigate 

merchandise 

sentinel 

sagacity 

esplanade 

subterranean 

"^What's  to  be  done?'  thought  I,  when  thus  left  to 
myself ;  '  shall  I  wait  here  until  this  ghost  returns  to 
whisk  me  off  on  his  goblin  steed,  or  shall  I  make  the 
most  of  my  time  and  beat  a  retreat  from  this  hobgoblin 
community  ? '  A  soldier's  mind  is  soon  made  up,  as  your 
Excellency  well  knows.  As  to  the  horse,  he  belonged  to 
an  avowed  enemy  of  the  realm,  and  was  a  fair  prize 
according  to  the  rules  of  war.  So,  hoisting  myself  from 
the  crupper  into  the  saddle,  I  turned  the  reins,  struck  the 
Moorish  stirrups  into  the  sides  of  the  steed,  and  urged 
him  to  make  the  best  of  his  way  out  of  the  passage  by 
which  he  had  entered. 

''  As  we  scoured  by  the  halls  where  the  Moslem  horse- 
men sat  in  motionless  battalions,  I  thought  I  heard  the 
clang  of  armor  and  a  hollow  murmur  of  voices.  I  gave 
the  steed  another  taste  *of  the  stirrups  and  doubled  my 
speed.  There  was  now  a  sound  behind  me  like  a  rushing 
blast ;  I  heard  the  clatter  of  a  thousand  hoofs ;  a  count- 

1  Find  the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  these  words  in  the  vocabulary. 


-«  251  d^ 

less  throng  overtook  me.  I  was  borne  along  in  the  press, 
and  hurled  forth  from  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  while 
thousands  of  shadowy  forms  were  swept  off  in  every 
direction  by  the  four  winds  of  heaven. 

"  In  the  whirl  and  confusion  of  the  scene  I  was 
thrown  senseless  to  the  earth.  When  I  came  to  myself, 
I  was  lying  on  the  brow  of  a  hill,  with  the  Arabian  steed 
standing  beside  me ;  for,  in  falling,  my  arm  had  slipped 
within  the  bridle,  which,  I  presume,  prevented  his  whisk- 
ing off  to  Old  Castile. 

"  Your  Excellency  may  .easily  judge  of  my  surprise, 
on  looking  round,  to  behold  hedges  of  aloes  and  Indian 
figs  and  other  proofs  of  a  southern  climate,  and  to  see 
a  great  city  below  me,  with  towers  and  a  grand  cathedral. 

"I  descended  the  hill  cautiously,  leading  my  steed, 
for  I  was  afraid  to  mount  him  again,  lest  he  should 
play  me  some  trick.  As  I  descended  I  met  your  patrol, 
who  let  me  into  the  secret  that  it  was  Granada  that  lay 
before  me,  and  that  I  was  actually  under  the  walls  of  the 
Alhambra,  the  fortress  of  the  redoubted  Governor  Manco, 
the  terror  of  all  enchanted  Moslems.  When  I  heard  this, 
I  determined  at  once  to  seek  your  Excellency,  to  inform 
you  of  all  that  I  had  seen,  and  to  warn  you  of  the  perils 
that  surround  and  undermine  you,  that  you  may  take 
measures  in  time  to  guard  your  fortress,  and  the  kingdom 
itself,  from  this  army  that  lurks  in  the  very  depths  of  the 
earth." 


-«  252  8«- 

^'  And  prithee,  friend,  you  who  are  a  veteran  cam- 
paigner, and  have  seen  so  much  service,"  said  the  gov- 
ernor, "  how  would  you  advise  me  to  proceed,  in  order  to 
prevent  this  evil  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  for  a  humble  private  of  the  ranks,"  said  the 
soldier,  modestly,  '^  to  pretend  to  instruct  a  conimander  of 
your  Excellency's  sagacity;  but  it  appears  to  me  that  your 
Excellency  might  cause  all  the  caves  and  entrances  into 
the  mountains  to  be  walled  up  with  solid  mason-work,  so 
that  Boabdil  and  his  army  might  be  completely  corked 
up  in  their  subterranean  habitation." 

The  governor  now  placed  his  arms  akimbo,  with  his 
hand  resting  on  the  hilt  of  his  toledo,  fixed  his  eye  upon 
the  soldier,  and,  gently  wagging  his  head  from  one  side  to 
the  other  :  "  So,  friend,"  said  he,  "  then  you  really  sup- 
pose I  am  to  be  cheated  with  this  story  about  enchanted 
mountains  and  enchanted  Moors?  Hark  ye,  culprit!  not 
another  word.  An  old  soldier  you  may  be,  but  you'll 
find  you  have  an  older  soldier  to  deal  with,  and  one  not 
easily  outgeneralled.  Ho!  guards  there!  put  this  fellow 
in  irons." 

The  demure  handmaid  would  have  put  in  a  word  in 
favor  of  the  prisoner,  but  the  governor  silenced  her  with 
a  look. 

As  they  were  pinioning  the  soldier,  one  of  the  guards 
felt  something  of  bulk  in  his  pocket,  and,  drawing  it 
forth,  found  a  long  leathern  purse  that  appeared  to  be  well 


^  253  ^ 

filled.  Holding  it  by  one  corner,  he  turned  the  contents 
upon  the  table  before  the  governor.  Out  tumbled  rings, 
jewels,  rosaries  of  pearls,  sparkling  diamond  crosses,  and 
a  profusion  of  ancient  golden  coin,  some  of  which  fell 
jingling  to  the  floor,  and  rolled  away  to  the  uttermost 
parts  of  the  chamber. 

For  a  time  the  functions  of  justice  were  suspended ; 
there  was  a  universal  scramble  after  the  glittering  fugi- 
tives. The  governor  alone,  who  was  imbued  with  true 
Spanish  pride,  maintained  his  stately  decorum,  though 
his  eye  betrayed  a  little  anxiety  until  the  last  coin  and 
jewel  was  restored  to  the  sack. 

"  Where  hast  thou  stolen  these  precious  jewels  ?  "  de- 
manded Governor  Manco. 

"I  was  just  going  to  tell  your  Excellency, when  you 
interrupted  me,  that,  on  taking  possession  of  the  trooper's 
horse,  I  unhooked  a  leathern  sack  which  hung  at  the 
saddle-bow." 

'^  A  clever  tale !  At  present  you  will  make  up  your 
mind  to  take  up  your  quarters  in  a  chamber  of  the  ver- 
milion tower,  which,  though  not  under  a  magic  spell,  will 
hold  you  as  safe  as  any  cave  of  your  enchanted  Moors."    • 

"  Your  Excellency  will  do  as  you  think  proper,"  said 
the  prisoner,  coolly.  "  I  shall  be  thankful  to  your  Excel- 
lency for  any  accommodation  in  the  fortress.  A  soldier 
who  has  been  in  the  wars,  as  your  Excellency  well  knows, 
is  not  particular  about  his  lodgings." 


-^  254  8«- 

Here  ended  the  scene.  The  prisoner  was  conducted 
to  a  strong  dungeon  in  the  vermilion  tower,  the  Arabian 
steed  was  led  to  his  Excellency's  stable,  and  the  trooper's 
sack  was  deposited  in  his  Excellency's  strong  box. 

To  explain  these  prompt  and  rigid  measures  on  the 
part  of  old  Governor  Manco,  it  is  proper  to  observe  that 
about  this  time  the  mountains  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Granada  were  terribly  infested  by  a  gang  of  robbers, 
under  the  command  of  a  daring  chief  named  Manuel 
Borasco,  who  was  accustomed  to  prowl  about  the  country, 
and  even  to  enter  the  city  in  various  disguises,  to  gain 
intelligence  of  the  departure  of  convoys  of  merchandise, 
or  of  travellers  with  well-lined  purses,  whom  they  took 
care  to  waylay  in  distant  and  solitary  passes  of  the  road. 

The  vermilion  tower,  as  is  well  known,  stands  apart 
from  the  Alhambra  on  a  sister  hill,  separated  from  the 
main  fortress  by  the  ravine,  down  which  passes  the  main 
avenue.  There  were  no  outer  walls,  but  a  sentinel  pa- 
trolled before  the  tower.  The  window  of  the  chamber  in 
which  the  soldier  was  confined  was  strongly  grated,  and 
looked  upon  a  small  esplanade.  Here  the  good  folk  of 
Granada  repaired  to  gaze  at  him,  as  they  would  at  a 
laughing  hyena,  grinning  through  the  cage  of  a  menag- 
erie. Visitors  came  not  merely  from  the  city,  but  from 
all  parts  of  the  country;  but  nobody  knew  him,  and 
there  began  to  be  doubts  in  the  minds  of  the  common 
people  whether  there  might  not  be  some  truth  in   his 


^  255  ^ 

story.  That  Boabdil  and  his  army  were  shut  up  in  the 
mountains  was  an  old  tradition,  which  many  of  the 
ancient  inhabitants  had  heard  from  their  fathers.  Num- 
bers went  up  to  the  Mountain  of  the  Sun,  or  rather  of 
St.  Elena,  in  search  of  the  cave  mentioned  by  the  soldier ; 
and  saw  and  peeped  into  the  deep,  dark  pit,  descending, 
no  one  knows  how  far,  into  the  mountain,  and  which 
remains  there  to  this  day  —  the  fabled  entrance  to  the 
subterranean  abode  of  Boabdil. 

By  degrees  the  soldier  became  popular  with  the  com- 
mon people,  and  many  of  them  looked  upon  the  prisoner 
in  the  light  of  a  martyr. 

The  soldier,  moreover,  was  a  mferry  fellow,  who  had  a 
joke  for  every  one  who  came  near  his  window.  He  had 
procured  an  old  guitar,  and  would  sit  by  his  window 
and  sing  ballads  to  the  delight  of  the  women  of  the 
neighborhood,  who  would  assemble  on  the  esplanade  in 
the  evening  and  dance  boleros  to  his  music.  Having 
trimmed  off  his  rough  beard,  his  sunburnt  face  found 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  the  fair  handmaid  of  the  governor. 
This  kind-hearted  damsel  had  from  the  first  evinced  a 
deep  sympathy  in  his  fortunes,  and,  having  in  vain  tried 
to  mollify  the  governor,  had  set  to  work  privately  to 
mitigate  the  rigor  of  his  dispensations.  Every  day  she 
brought  the  prisoner  some  crumbs  of  comfort  which  had 
fallen  from  the  governor's  table,  or  been  abstracted  from 
his  larder. 


-^  256  B«- 

While  this  petty  treason  was  going  on  in  the  old 
governor's  citadel,  a  storm  of  open  war  was  brewing 
among  his  external  foes.  The  circumstance  of  a  bag  of 
gold  and  jewels  having  been  found  upon  the  person  of 
the  supposed  robber,  had  been  reported  in  Granada.  A 
question  of  territorial  right  was  immediately  started  by 
the  governor's  rival,  the  captain-general.  He  therefore 
threatened  to  send  a  body  of  soldiers  to  transfer  the 
prisoner  from  the  vermilion  tower  to  the  city. 

News  of  this  was  brought  late  at  night  to  Governor 
Manco.  "  Let  them  come,"  said  he,  "  they'll  find  me  be- 
forehand with  them ;  he  must  rise  bright  and  early  who 
would  take  in  an  old  soldier." 

He  accordingly  issued  orders  to  have  his  prisoner  re- 
moved at  daybreak,  to  the  donjon-keep  within  the  walls 
of  the  Alhambra.  "  And  d'ye  hear,  child,"  said  he  to  the 
handmaid,  "  tap  at  my  door  and  wake  me  before  cock- 
crowing,  that  I  may  see  to  the  matter  myself." 

The  day  dawned,  the  cock  crowed,  but  nobody  tapped 
at  the  door  of  the  governor.  The  sun  rose  high  above 
the  mountain  tops,  and  glittered  in  at  his  casement,  ere 
the  governor  was  awakened  from  his  morning  dreams  by 
his  veteran  corporal,  who  stood  before  him  with  terror 
stamped  upon  his  iron  visage. 

"  He's  off !   he's  gone  !  "  cried  the  corporal. 

"  Who's  off  —  who's  gone  ?  " 

"  The  soldier  —  the  robber;  his  dungeon  is  empty,  but 


-^  257  ^ 

the  door  is  locked ;  no  one  knows  how  he  has  escaped  out 
of  it."   • 

"  Who  saw  him  last  ?  " 

"  Your  handmaid  ;  she  brought  him  his  supper." 

"  Let  her  be  called  instantly." 

Here  was  new  matter  of  confusion.  The  chamber  of 
the  demure  damsel  was  likewise  empty.  Her  bed  had 
not  been  slept  in :  she  had  doubtless  gone  off  with  the 
culprit,  as  she  had  appeared,  for  several  days  past,  to 
have  frequent  conversations  with  him. 

This  was  wounding  the  old  governor  in  a  tender  part, 
but  he  had  scarce  time  to  wince  at  it,  when  new  misfor- 
tunes broke  upon  his  view.  On  going  into  his  cabinet  he 
found  his  strong  box  open,  and  the  leather  purse  of  the 
trooper  abstracted. 

But  how  had  the  fugitives  escaped?  A  peasant  who 
lived  by  the  roadside  leading  up  into  the  Sierra  declared 
that  he  had  heard  the  tramp  of  a  powerful  steed  just 
before  daybreak,  passing  up  into  the  mountains.  He  had 
looked  out  of  his  casement,  and  could  just  distinguish  % 
horseman  with  a  woman  seated  before  him. 

"  Search  the  stables  !  "  cried  Governor  Manco. 

The  stables  were  searched;  all  the  horses  were  in 
their  stalls  excepting  the  Arabian  steed.  In  his  place 
was  a  stout  cudgel,  tied  to  the  manger,  and  on  it  a  label 
bearing  these  words,  "  A  Gift  to  Governor  Manco,  from 

an  Old  Soldier."  —Washington  Irving. 


NOTES   ON   THE   STORIES   AND    POEMS 

{To  he  Bead  by  Teachers  and  Pupils.) 

The  Sabot  of  Little  Wolff  is  translated  from  the  French  of  Francois 
Coppee  (1842-        ),  a  French  poet,  dramatist,  and  novelist. 

Perronet  is  selected  from  a  book  of  short  stories  entitled  "A  Great 
Emergency  and  Other  Tales,"  by  Juliana  Horatia  Ewing  (1841-1885), 
an  Englishwoman,  who  wrote  many  charming  stories  for  old  and 
young.  Among  the  most  popular  of  her  books  are  "Jackanapes," 
"  Jan  of  the  Windmill,"  and  "  The  Story  of  a  Short  Life." 

March,  The  Gladness  of  Nature,  and  The  Fringed  Gentian  were  written 
by  William  Cullen  Bryant  (1794-1878),  an  American  poet  and  jour- 
nalist. He  wrote  many  poems  about  birds,  flowers,  and  the  chang- 
ing seasons,  which  prove  him  to  be  a  thoughtful  and  loving  student 
of  nature. 

Daffodils  was  written  by  William  Wordsworth  (1770-1850),  a 
celebrated  English  poet.  He  wrote  many  poems  which  express  a 
genuine  love  of  nature,  and  a  familiar  knowledge  of  her  ways. 

The  River  of  Gold.  —  This  is  a  selection  from  "  The  King  of  the 
Golden  River,"  a  charming  story  for  children  written  by  John 
Kuskin  (1819-1900),  an  English  author,  celebrated  for  his  prose 
style. 

In  reading  this  story  one  should  note  the  beautiful  description  of 
the  mountains,  glacier,  sky,  clouds  and  sunsets,  and  how  with  a 
few  well-chosen  words  the  author  changes  the  whole  effect  of  the 
landscape  from  bright  and  cheering  to  dull  and  lowering. 

The  White  Knight.  —  Lewis  Carroll  was  the  pen-name  of  Charles  L. 
Dodgson,  an  English  author  (1832-1898),  who  wrote  "Alice  in 
Wonderland  "  and  "  Alice  through  the  Looking-Glass."     These  are 


^  260  e<- 

two  delightful  books  for  children,  which  recount  the  adventures  of  a 
little  girl  who  visits  Wonderland,  and  the  country  of  which  we  catch 
a  glimpse  in  the  looking-glass.  The  friends  she  makes  on  these  visits 
are  known  to  thousands  of  children  and  grown  people. 

The  lied  Knight  and  the  White  Knight,  the  Red  Queen  and 
the  White  Queen,  the  White  Rabbit,  the  Hatter,  the  Cheshire  Cat, 
Humpty  Dumpty,  Tweedledum  and  Tweedledee,  are  among  the 
most  familiar  characters  in  child  literature. 

Swiss  Family  Robinson.  —  This  story  was  founded  on  the  report 
of  the  captain  of  a  Russian  vessel,  who  discovered  a  group  of  islands 
southeast  of  Java.  On  landing  on  one  of  these  islands  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  a  family  consisting  of  a  father,  mother,  and  four  sons. 
These  people  had  sailed  from  England,  been  overtaken  by  a  fierce 
storm,  and  shipwrecked.  They  reached  an  uninhabited  island  where 
they  lived  many  years. 

The  father  tells  the  story  of  the  trials  through  which  his  wife 
and  children  pass,  the  wonderful  discoveries  they  make,  and  the 
dangers  they  encounter.  This  story  was  originally  told  by  Johann 
David  Wyss  to  his  four  children,  and  was  afterward  written  out 
and  published  in  Germany  by  his  son,  Rodolphe. 

A  Day  in  June.  —  This  selection  forms  the  prelude  to  "The 
Vision  of  Sir  Launfal,"  a  poem  written  by  James  Russell  Lowell 
(1819-1891).  The  author  was  a  distinguished  American  scholar, 
editor,  essayist,  and  poet. 

Black  Beauty.  —  This  selection  is  made  from  a  book  by  the 
same  name  written  by  Anna  Sewell  (1820-1877),  an  Englishwoman. 
The  story  was  written  to  teach  kindness,  sympathy,  and  common 
sense  in  the  treatment  of  horses,  and  has  done  much  to  improve 
their  condition.  Thousands  of  copies  of  the  book  have  been  dis- 
tributed  by  humane  societies,  both  in  Europe  and  America. 

Don  Quixote  and  the  Lion ;  Don  Quixote,  Knight-Errant.  —  These 
selections    recount    the    adventures    of    one    Don   Quixote,   whose 


^  261  S^ 

fancy  became  so  full  of  enchantments,  quarrels,  battles,  challenges, 
wounds,  and  wooings  (which  he  read  of  in  books  of  chivalry),  that 
he  became  quite  mad,  and  fancied  that  it  was  right  and  requisite 
that  he  should  make  a  knight-errant  of  himself,  roaming  the  world 
over  in  full  armor  and  on  horseback,  in  quest  of  adventures,  putting 
in  practice  all  that  he  had  read  of  knights-errant,  righting  every 
kind  of  wrong,  and  exposing  himself  to  peril  and  danger,  from 
which  he  was  to  reap  eternal  renown  and  fame. 

The  Don's  imagination  makes  something  extraordinary  out  of 
the  most  prosaic  incident;  whenever  he  acts  he  gets  into  trouble. 
His  world  and  the  real  world  continually  clash,  much  to  his 
astonishment. 

The  book  entitled  "Don  Quixote"  was  written  by  Miguel  de 
Cervantes  (1547-1616),  a  Spanish  poet  and  novelist,  and  its  satire 
swept  away  the  last  relics  and  practices  of  the  days  of  chivalry. 

Anselmo  is  a  story  written  by  Jean  Ingelow  (1820-1897),  an 
Englishwoman  who  wrote  poems,  novels,  and  books  for  children. 
She  is  best  known  to  the  children  as  the  author  of  the  poem  "  Seven 
Times  One,"  and  the  story  of  "  Mopsa,  the  Fairy." 

The  Building  of  the  Ship  was  written  by  Henry  Wadsworth 
Longfellow  (1807-1882),  an  American  poet.  Among  his  best  known 
poems  are  "Evangeline,"  "Hiawatha,"  "The  Children's  Hour," 
"  The  Village  Blacksmith,"  and  "  A  Psalm  of  Life." 

Longfellow  was  born  at  Portland,  Me.,  and  lived  many  years  at 
Cambridge,  Mass.,  while  he  was  a  professor  at  Harvard  College. 

The  Miraculous  Pitcher  is  one  of  the  stories  in  the  "Wonder 
Book,"  which  was  written  by  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  (1804-1864),  a 
famous  American  author  who  wrote  many  novels  and  books  for 
children. 

The  "Wonder  Book"  contains  several  stories,  all  of  which  are 
founded  on  classic  myths.  "  The  Miraculous  Pitcher "  is  founded 
on  a  Greek  tale,  according  to  which  Philemon  and  Baucis  offered  hos- 


^  262  B«- 

pitality  to  the  two  Greek  gods  Zeus  (Jupiter)  and  Hermes  (Mer- 
cury), and  were  rewarded  for  their  generosity.  Another  one  of 
these  stories  is  called  "The  Golden  Touch,"  and  is  founded  on 
the  familiar  story  of  King  Midas. 

Our  Country  Neighbors  was  written  by  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 
(1811-1896),  a  noted  American  writer.  She  wrote  several  novels 
and  stories  for  children.  Her  most  famous  work  was  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  published  before  the  Civil  War.  It  has  been  trans- 
lated into  more  than  twenty  languages,  and  has  been  dramatized 
and  acted  in  many  towns  and  cities  both  in  Europe  and  America. 

Tom  Brown  at  Rugby  ;  Hare  and  Hounds.  —  Thomas  Hughes  (1823- 
1896),  an  English  author  and  reformer,  who  was  educated  at  Rugby 
(a  school  for  boys  in  England),  wrote  "Tom  Brown's  School  Days," 
from  which  these  selections  are  made.  He  wrote  later  a  sequel  to 
the  book  entitled  "  Tom  Brown  at  Oxford,"  which  gives  as  accurate 
a  picture  of  life  in  that  famous  university  as  "  Tom  Brown's  School 
Days"  gives  of  the  life  of  a  schoolboy  at  Rugby. 

Sindbad,  the  Sailor,  is  one  of  the  many  delightful  stories  in  the 
"  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainments."  This  is  a  book  which  has  been 
enjoyed  by  English-speaking  people  for  nearly  two  hundred  years. 
Before  that  time  it  had  been  the  delight  of  Western  Asia  and  of  the 
Mohammedan  colonies  in  Europe  and  Northern  Africa  for  many 
centuries.  Since  its  first  translation  into  French  it  has  been  trans- 
lated into  every  language  of  Europe. 

The  stories  are  pure  narrative,  —  narrative  without  a  moral, 
without  any  object  but  that  of  amusing  the  reader :  they  are  simply 
stories.  Two  of  the  most  familiar  are  "  Aladdin's  Lamp  "  and  "  Ali 
Baba  and  the  Forty  Thieves." 

The  New  Year  was  written  by  Alfred  Tennyson  (1809-1892),  who 
was  poet-laureate  of  England  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria,  from 
1845  until  the  time  of  his  death.  His  poems  have  had  the  greatest 
popularity  of  any  written  in  the  nineteenth  century. 


^  263  d^ 

Mr.  Pickwick  Drives ;  Mr.  Winkle  Skates.  —  These  two  selections 
are  taken  from  "  Pickwick  Papers  "  by  Charles  Dickens  (1812-1870), 
one  of  the  most  popular  of  English  novelists. 

"Pickwick  Papers"  contains  a  most  humorous  account  of  the 
fortunes  and  misfortunes  of  the  four  gentlemen,  Messrs.  Pickwick, 
Snodgrass,  Tupman,  and  Winkle,  who  together  formed  the  Pickwick 
Club,  and  whose  humorous  though  impossible  adventures  have  been 
laughed  over  for  years  by  the  people  of  two  continents.  Sam 
Weller  is  one  of  the  best  known  figures  in  humorous  fiction. 

Gulliver's  Voyage  to  Lilliput.  —  This  is  a  selection  from  "Gulli- 
ver's Travels  "  which  was  written  by  Jonathan  Swift  (1667-1745), 
an  English  man  of  letters.  The  book  contains  an  accounl  of  four 
voyages  of  an  English  sailor,  named  Lemuel  Gulliver.  On  one  of 
these  voyages  he  was  shipwrecked  on  the  island  of  Lilliput,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  were  so  small  that  Gulliver  seemed  to  them 
a  giant.  On  another  voyage  he  visited  Brobdingnag,  the  home  of 
a  race  of  giants. 

Two  Old  Soldiers  is  a  selection  from  "  The  Alhambra  "  by  Wash- 
ington Irving  (1783-1859),  an  American  historian,  essayist,  and 
novelist.  He  became  greatly  interested  in  Spain,  and  spent  several 
years  in  that  country.  While  there  he  wrote  "  The  Life  and  Voy- 
ages of  Columbus,"  "  The  Conquest  of  Granada,"  and  "  The  Alham- 
bra." The  latter  grew  out  of  a  few  months'  residence  in  the  almost 
deserted  palace  and  fortification  of  Alhambra  in  Granada.  It  con- 
sists of  chapters  of  Moorish  history  and  a  number  of  Moorish 
legends. 

Irving's  best  known  tales  are  "Eip  Van  Winkle"  and  "The 
Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow." 


KEY  TO  PRONUNCIATION 


a  as  in 

made 

a      " 

rat 

a      " 

ask 

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far 

a      ^' 

all 

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care 

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above 

e  «s  in 

me 

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let 

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her 

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hundred 

i  as  in 

ride 

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pin 

1       '' 

fir 

y  as  in 

fly 

y    " 

pretty 

d  as'  in 

old 

6      " 

on 

6      " 

love 

0       " 

move 

6      " 

for 

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parlor 

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use 

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cup 
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fur 

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mige 
bank 

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cage 

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eye§ 

264 


VOCABULARY 


ab'so  lately,  entirely;  wholly;  com- 
pletely. 

ab  8&rb',  engross  ;  imbibe. 

a  blin'dant,  plentiful ;  sufficient. 

ac  coun'ta  ble,  responsible  ;  answer- 
able. 

ac  quaint',  inform;  introduce;  make 
known. 

ac  quain'tan^e,  knowledge  of  ;  a  per- 
son known  to  one. 

ad  van^e',  move  forward. 

ad'verse,  hostile  ;  opposing  desire. 

ag  I  ta'tion  (shun),  disturbance  of 
mind ;  state  of  being  shaken  or 
moved. 

fig  rl  cttl'tur  al,  pertaining  to  or  con- 
nected with  farming. 

a  kim'  bo,  bent ;  crooked. 

Al  hfim'bra,  a  citadel  in  Spain. 

fil'pine,  pertaining  to  the  Alpine 
mountains. 

al  ter'nate  ly,  by  turns  ;  following 
one  another. 

fim  bro'§Ia,  the  food  of  gods. 

a  mend§',  recompense  ;  satisfaction. 

a'mi  a  ble,   friendly  ;  loving ;  kindly. 

fim  mu  nl'tion  (shun) ,  military  stores. 

fin  a  con'da,  a  very  large  serpent. 

An  dfi  lu  sia  (lo'zi  a)  a  province  in 
Spain. 

anx  ious  ly  (angk'shus)  in  a  greatly 
troubled  manner. 

a  p61'o  g^,  excuse  for  fault ;  defence. 


fip  pa  rl'tion  (shun),  a  ghostly  ap- 
pearance ;  a  spectre. 

fip  pre  hen'sive,  feeling  alarm  ;  fear- 
ful. 

ap  pren'tt^e,  a  learner ;  a  novice  ; 
one  who  is  bound  to  serve  for  a 
specific  time. 

A  ra'bi  an,  pertaining  to  Arabia. 

Ar'a  bic,  belonging  to  Arabia. 

fir'ro  gant,  haughty  ;  proud ;  over- 
bearing. 

as  96nt',  act  of  climbing. 

fis  ^er  tain',  make  certain  ;  find  out 
by  trial. 

fis'pgct,  view ;  look. 

as  s^m'ble,  meet ;  come  together. 

as  s6nt',  agree  ;  approve  ;  consent. 

a  ston'Ish  ment,  surprise  ;  amaze- 
ment. 

ftv  a  ri  clous  (rish'us),  greedy. 

bal'my,  soft ;  soothing ;  refreshing. 

Bfil  so'ra,  a  city. 

bfil  fis  trade',  an  ornamental  rail- 
ing. 

bfit  tfil'ion  (yun),  an  army  in  battle 
array. 

bfit'tle  ment,  a  high  wall  for  defence. 

B^u'^Is,  a  woman's  name. 

be  calm',  make  quiet ;  deprive  of 
wind. 

be  n6f 'I  ^ent  ly,  in  a  generous  man- 
ner ;  liberally. 


265 


^  266  8«- 


be  nign',  gracious  ;  kind  ;  genial. 
bip  seech',  entreat ;  implore  ;  beg. 
be  wil'der  ment,   a    state    of    being 

confused. 
be  witch',  charm  ;  fascinate. 
bo  le  ro  (la'),  a  Spanish  dance. 
br^u'dish,    flourish     about ;     shake ; 

wave. 
bri'dle,  a  part  of  a  horse's  harness. 
bur'go  mas  ter,  chief  magistrate. 

cSl'a  bash,  a  tree  bearing  a  gourd-like 
fruit  from  which  cups,  basins,  etc., 
are  made. 

eai'dron,  large  kettle  or  boiler. 

ca'Hph,  the  title  of  a  monarch  in  the 
East. 

caout  chouc  (ko'chiik),  a  tree  from 
which  an  elastic,  gummy  sub- 
stance is  obtained. 

ca  pSr'I  soned,  adorned  ;  decked. 

cftp  tlv'i  ty,  confinement ;  imprison- 
ment. 

car'go,  lading  of  a  ship;  merchan- 
dise; goods. 

car'nl  val,  a  revelry  ;  a  feast. 

cSs  cade',  waterfall. 

^gn'tu  r^,  one  hundred  years ;  one 
hundred. 

^haige,  a  carriage. 

chasm  (kSzm),  gulf;  cleft;  yawning 
hollow. 

^ir'cult,  out  of  the  direct  road. 

9ir  ctini'fer  en^e,  line  that  bounds  a 
circle. 

clftm'ber,  climb  with  difficulty. 

close,  an  enclosed  place. 

c51  Iftpse',  break  down  ;  ruin. 

cdm'ba  tant,  one  who  fights. 

commission  (mish'un),  charge; 
order ;  mandate. 


com  mo'tlon     (shun),    disturbance ; 
agitation. 

c5m  mn'nl  ty,  village  ;  township. 

cSm'pSct,  an  agreement. 

com  pSr'I  son,  similitude ;  act  of  com- 
paring. 

com  p6t'l  tor,  one  who  competes  with 
another. 

com  plete'ly,     entirely ;     perfectly 
wholly. 

com  po§ed',  tranquil ;  calm. 

com  piil'sion  (shun),  overruling  force ; 
constraint. 

con  ^eal',  hide  ;  secrete. 

con  clii'sion  (zhun),  end  ;  close ;  ter- 
mination. 

con'fl  dent,  assured. 

con  firm',    make    certain ;    certify ; 
ratify. 

con  fB§e',  bewilder ;  embarrass  ;  per- 
plex. 

con  grSt  u  la'tion    (shun),     compli- 
ment. 

con  ser'va  to  ry,  greenhouse. 

con  su'mer,  one  who  uses,  destroys, 
or  spends. 

cdn  tgm'plate,   view ;    consider ;   re- 
gard. 

cSn'tra  bftn  dis'ta,  a  smuggler. 

cdn  ver  sa'tion  (shun),  familiar  talk. 

crtnvey(va'),    carry;    bear;    trans- 
port. 

cfin'voy,  escort  for  protection. 

cdp'per  hSad,  a  venomous  serpent. 

cOr'po  ral,    the    lowest  non-commis- 
sioned officer. 

coun'te  nan^e,  features ;  face ;  visage. 

crgd'I  ta  bl^,  without  disgrace ;  hon- 
orably. 

cru  ^I  ble  (cro'),  a  melting-pot. 

cu  r6  (ra') ,  a  French  priest. 


-^  267  S«- 


dain'ty,  delicacy. 

daunt  (dant),  subdue;  check;  fright. 

de  co'rttm,  propriety  ;  formal  polite- 
ness. 

deign  (dan) ,  vouchsafe  ;  condescend. 

de  mean'or,  conduct ;  management ; 
treatment. 

de  pict',  portray  ;  paint ;  describe. 

des'o  late,  lonely  ;  forsaken  ;  solitary. 

des'per  ate,  without  hope ;  rash ; 
reckless. 

des  ti  na'tlon  (shun),  end  of  journey ; 
goal. 

dgs'tine,  ordain  ;  doom  ;  devote. 

de  ter'mine,  fix  ;  establish  ;  resolve. 

d6x  ter'I  ty,  skill ;  tact ;  ability. 

di  Igm'ma,  predicament. 

dil'i  g^nt  ly,  industriously  ;  carefully. 

dl  min'ish,  lessen  ;  detract ;  lower. 

di  min'u  tive,  small ;  little  ;  con- 
tracted. 

dis  con'so  late  ly,  without  hope  ; 
sadly. 

dIs  con  t6n't6d,  dissatisfied  ;  un- 
happy. 

dis  dain',  despise  ;  spurn  ;  reject. 

dIs  6n  gage',  set  free  ;  release  ;  lib- 
erate. 

dis  may',  trouble  ;  fright ;  discour- 
agement. 

dIs  6r'der  ly,  confused ;  lawless  ;  un- 
restrained. 

dls'tatr,  a  stick  on  which  is  wound 
wool,  cotton,  or  flax  to  be 
spun. 

dIs  tinc'tion  (shun),  eminence  in 
rank ;  superiority. 

dIs  tln'guish  a  ble,  discernible  ;  per- 
ceptible. 

dIs  trac'tion  (shun),  despair;  ex- 
treme annoyance. 


do  mfis'tlc,  relating  or  belonging  to 
the  household. 

ddm'T  no,  a  half  mask  ;  also,  a  loose 
garment. 

doubt/fiil  ly,  in  an  uncertain  man- 
ner ;  vaguely. 

draught,  act  of  drinking  ;  a  quantity 
of  liquid  drunk  at  one  time. 

dun'geon,  a  close  cell ;  a  dark  place 
of  confinement. 

du'ran^e,  imprisonment. 

ec'sta  sy,  rapture;  delight;  joy. 

ed'i  f  i^e,  a  building  ;  a  structure. 

6f  fec'tu  al,  successful ;  thorough  ; 
complete. 

gm  phat'ic,  earnest ;  energetic  ;  for- 
cible. 

6n  chant',  bewitch  ;  charm. 

en  coni'pass,  surround  ;  enclose. 

gn  cour'age,  give  hope  ;  promote  ; 
help  forward. 

e  nOr'mofis,  huge  ;  monstrous  ;  im- 
mense. 

6n  rich',  make  rich. 

Sn'ter  prige,  an  undertaking ;  a  Vfen- 
ture. 

6n  treat',  beg  ;  beseech  ;  solicit. 

e  qugs'trl  an,  pertaining  to  horses  or 
horsemanship. 

gs  pla  nade',  terrace. 

e  vap'o  rate,  pass  off  in  vapor. 

6v'i  dent  ly,  clearly  ;  plainly  ;  ob- 
viously. 

gv  p  la'tion  (shun),  a  turning  or 
shifting  movement ;  develop- 
ment. 

Sx  ^eed'Ing  ly,  extremely  ;  greatly. 

6x  ^gs'slve,  extreme ;  superfluous ;  un- 
reasonable. 

gx'e  cute,  perform  ;  accomplish. 


-^  268  8«- 


6x  pe'rl  Snge,  knowledge  previously 
acquired. 

gx'qui  §Ite,  elegant ;  exceedingly 
choice;  fine. 

6x  ten'sion  (shun),  an  enlargement ; 
expansion. 

ex  traor  dl  na  ry  (tror'),  very  un- 
usual ;  strange. 

fix  trgm'i  ty,  the  utmost  end. 

ex'trl  cate,  disentangle  ;  free. 

fSc'ul  ties,  powers;  senses. 

fa  mil'iar  (yar),  intimate;  friendly; 

well  known. 
fan  tas'tic,     imaginary  ;     grotesque  ; 

quaint. 
fa  tigiie  (t6g'),  weariness. 
fa'vor  Ite,  especially  liked. 
flu  ont  (flo'),    ready    in    the    use    of 

words. 
fore  told',  predicted  ;  prophesied. 
f6r  tl  fl  ca'tlon  (shun),  fort ;  castle  ; 

fortified  place. 
fOr'tr  tude,     courage  ;       endurance  ; 

resolution. 
fdritrfiss,  stronghold;   fort;   place  of 

defence. 
frag'mgnt,  a  portion  broken  off ;  bit ; 

remnant. 
freight  (frat),  to  load  with  goods. 
fpgn'zy,  rage  ;  fury  ;  madness. 
fre'qiient  ly,  often  ;   many  times  ;   at 

short  intervals, 
fru  gal  (fro'),    thrifty;    economical; 

sparing. 
fptis'trate,  thwart ;  defeat. 
fu'gl  tlve,  deserter;  runaway. 
fflnc'tioii  (shun),  office;  duty;  work. 


ggii'er  ftl  li^, 

chiefly. 


usually ;      ordinarily 


ggn  er  6a'i  ty,  liberality  ;  bounty. 

gla'cier  (shier),  a  river  of  ice. 

glimpse,  hurried  view  ;  glance. 

gnash  (nSsh),  snap  or  grate  the  teeth. 

gra'cious  ly  (shiis) ,  kindly  ;  benefi- 
cently. 

GrS  na'da,  a  former  kingdom  of 
Spain. 

grat'I  tade,  thankfulness ;  grateful- 
ness. 

grSv'!  ty,  solemnity ;  dignity  ;  serious- 
ness. 

griev'anee,  a  sort  of  annoyance. 
ad  a  ra'ma,  mountains  in  Spain. 

gym  nfts'tle,  pertaining  to  athletic 
exercises. 

hab  I  ta'tion  (shun),  dwelling;  place 
of  abode. 

hag'gard,  gaunt ;  careworn. 

Ha  roun'  ill  Ras  chid  (rash'Id),  a 
caliph  of  Bagdad. 

hgath'er,  a  plant. 

hei'met,  a  defensive  cover  for  the 
head. 

herb  age  (er'bag),  vegetation. 

hos'pl  ta  ble,  affording  generous  en- 
tertainment. 

hds  pi  tai'l  ty,  act  of  being  hospitable. 

hds'tler,  one  who  has  the  care  of 
horses. 

hy  e'na,  a  carnivorous  animal. 

Ig'no  rant,  untaught ;  showing  want 

of  knowledge. 
Im'ml  n6nt,  threatening ;  impendmg. 
Im  mure',    confine ;    enclose     within 

walls. 
Impa'tientl^     (shent),     restlessly; 

impetuously. 


-^  269  ^ 


im  pe'rl  al,  pertaining  to  an  empire  ; 
sovereign. 

im  pet  u  os'i  ty,  act  of  being  rash ; 
vehement. 

im  p6t'u  Otis,  acting  suddenly  ;  vehe- 
mently. 

im  por  tune',  crave  ;  beg  ;  request ; 
urge. 

Im  pru'dgnt  (pro),  not  careful ;  rash  ; 
heedless. 

in '51  dent,  occurrence  ;  circumstance. 

in  ei  sion  (sizh'on),  a  cut ;  a  gash. 

in  clined',  disposed. 

in  crDst',  to  cover  ;  decorate. 

in  dis  creet',  imprudent ;  unwise. 

in  dis'pu  ta  ble,  undoubtedly  true  ; 
certain  ;  positive. 

In  dom'I  ta  ble,  untamable  ;  uncon- 
querable. 

in  ex  haus'ti  ble,  unfailing. 

in  her'i  tan^e,  heritage  ;  patrimony. 

in  nu'mer  a  ble,  countless  ;  number- 
less ;  myriad. 

In  quire',  ask  about ;  question  ;  seek. 

In  spire',  animate  ;  rouse. 

In'stant  ly,  immediately ;  without 
delay. 

In'stru  ment  (stro),  a  tool. 

In  ter  riipt',  disturb  ;  break  in  upon. 

in  tol'er  a  ble,  not  to  be  endured  ; 
unbearable. 

in  trg  pid'I  ty,  undaunted  courage. 

In  tro  du^e',  conduct ;  bring  to  notice. 

In  ure',  accustom ;  harden  ;  adapt. 

jer'kin,  a  leather  jacket. 

knead  (n6d),  mix  thoroughly. 

Iftm  gn  ta'tion  (shun),  bewailing; 
mournful  outcry. 


league  (leg),  band;  union. 

leis  ure  ly  (le'zhur) ,  deliberately  ;  not 

hastily. 
lln'e  a  ment,  feature. 
live'li  hood,   support  of  life ;   means 

of  living. 

raSg  nlf  I  cent,  superb  ;  splendid  ; 
gorgeous. 

majes'tic,  stately;  grand;  sublime. 

ma  11  clous  (lish'us),  ill-disposed  ; 
spiteful ;  resentful. 

ma  noeu  vre  (no'ver),  trick  ;  strata- 
gem. 

mar'vel  loiis,  extraordinaiy  ;  wonder- 
ful. 

ma'trou.  a  married  woman  ;  a  house- 
keeper. 

mea'gre  (ger),  scanty  ;  spare  ;  thin. 

me  an'der,  to  wind  ;  turn. 

me  nSg'er  le,  a  collection  of  wild  ani- 
mals. 

mer'chan  di§e,  goods  ;  wares  ;  com- 
modities. 

me  trop'o  lis,  chief  city. 

mien,  look ;  appearance  ;  countenance. 

mlr'a  cle,  a  wonderful  thing. 

mi  rftc'u  lofls,  exceedingly  surprising 
or  wonderful. 

ml§'er  a  ble,  unhappy  ;  wretched. 

mit'i  gate,  to  make  more  tolerable  ; 
soften  ;  mollify  ;  relieve. 

mock'er  y,  derision  ;  jest ;  ridicule. 

mol'li  fy,  soften  ;  appease  ;  soothe  ; 
calm. 

mo  not'o  notts,  unvarying ;  uniform  ; 
tiresome. 

men  sleur  (me  sye'),  a  French  word 
for  "mister." 

Mo  ris'co,  a  person  of  the  Moorish 
race  :  a  Moor. 


-^  270  B«- 


mdr'sel,  a  small  piece  ;  a  mouthful ; 
a  bite. 

moun  tain  eer',  a  climber  of  moun- 
tains. 

mourn'ful  ly,  sorrowfully ;  dolefully. 

mu  si  cian  (zish'an),  one  who  makes 
music  a  profession. 

myr'i  ad,  numberless  ;  innumerable. 

mys  te'rl  otis,  obscure  ;  mystic  ;  in- 
comprehensible. 

n&r'rsL  tlve,  tale  ;  story. 
niche,  corner  ;  nook. 
nim'ble,  swift ;  lively  ;  spry. 
noc  tiir'nal,  nightly  ;  in  the  night. 
not  -with  st^nd'Ing,  in  spite  of. 

6  be'dl  en^e,     submission ;     act     of 

obeying. 
ob  tain'  acquire  ;  gain  ;  secure. 
pc  ca'sion  al  ly    (zhun),    sometimes  ; 

at  times. 
8c'cu  pant,  inhabitant ;  tenant. 
6f  fend',  displease  ;  annoy  ;  molest. 
o  ver  whelm'  (hw61m'),    overpower ; 

crush  :  overcome. 


to  the 


pftl'a  ta  ble,  savory  ;  agreeable 
taste. 

par  tic's  lar  ly,  especially. 

pa'tron,  protector ;  guardian. 

pa'tron  ize,  favor ;  assume  a  conde- 
scending air  toward  one. 

p6n'e  trate,  pierce  ;  permeate. 

per  ^eive',  become  aware  of ;  observe ; 
notice. 

per'tnme,  odor  ;  scent. 

per  pl6x'I  t^,  bewilderment ;  embar- 
rassment. 

per  sist',    continue    steadily ;    perse- 
vere. 

Phi  le'mdn,  a  man^s  name. 


pin'ion  (yun),   bind  ;    shackle  ;   con- 
fine. 

pin'na  cle,  sharp  point  or  peak. 

pit'eously,      sadly;       mournfully; 
pleadingly. 

pit'l  a  ble,  deserving  pity. 

plu  mage  (plo'),  feathery  covering  of 
birds. 

pol'y  po  dy,  a  kind  of  fern. 

pop'a  late,  furnish  with  inhabitants  ; 
T^eople. 
rin  ger,  bowl. 

por'tal,  door ;  gate. 

por'ter,  a  carrier  ;   a  bearer  ;  a  gate- 
keeper. 

po'tgnt,  powerful. 

po'ten  tate,     sovereign  ;      monarch  ; 
ruler. 

prg^'I  pice,  steep  bank  or  cliff. 

pre  de  §6s'sor,  one  who  goes  before. 

pre  lliii'l  na  ry,   preparatory  ;    intro- 
ductory. 

pre  sgn'tl  ment,  foreboding. 

prig  mftt'ic,  having  form  of  a  prism  ; 
showing  colors  of  the  spectrum. 

prig'on  er  (ner),  one  who  is  confined 
in  a  prison  ;  one  under  arrest. 

prdb  a  bll'I  ty,  likelihood. 

pro  claim',  publish  ;  announce. 

prdd'I  gy,    sign  ;    wonder  ;    miracle ; 
marvel. 

pro  dIg'loQs,  wonderful ;  monstrous  ; 
huge. 

pro  pfin'sl  tf,  inclination  ;  tendency. 

prdph'e  9y,  prediction  ;  foretelling. 

prCs  p6r'I  t^,    good     fortune ;    well- 
being. 

pur  suit',  chase  ;  following  up,  or  out. 


rftb'ble,  mob 

blage. 


crowd  ;   noisy  assem- 


-«2718€- 


rav'age,  havoc  ;  waste  ;  ruin. 

re'al,  a  Spanish  silver  coin  worth  about 
five  cents. 

re  ggss',  a  nook  ;  a  niche  or  alcove. 

rgc'on  ^ile,  adjust ;  pacify ;  settle. 

re  cOrd',  recall ;  repeat ;  note  ;  in- 
scribe. 

re  emit  (crof),  restore;  refresh. 

re  doubt'a  ble,  formidable  ;  terrible. 

re  du^e',  diminish  ;  degrade  ;  lessen  : 
decrease. 

re  dfic'tlon  (shun),  lessening;  de- 
crease ;  contraction. 

r6f  er  en^e,  act  of  referring. 

reflect',  turn  back;  consider;  medi- 
tate. 

re  flgc'tive,  giving  reflection  ;  medi- 
tative. 

re  lieve',  remove  ;  alleviate  ;  lessen. 

re  lOc'tant  ly,  unwillingly  ;  not  read- 
ily. " 

re  mon'strate,  reprove  ;  rebuke ;  pro- 
test. 

re  p61',  drive  back  ;  repulse  ;  check. 

re  plen'ish,  fill  again  ;  complete. 

rep  re  §ent',  describe ;  portray ;  depict. 

r6p  u  ta'tion  (shun),  fame  ;  renown  ; 
name. 

re  qugst',  beg  ;  ask  ;  beseech. 

rgs^cfie,  recapture  ;  free  from  danger. 

re  §6nt',  to  take  ill ;  be  indignant. 

rgg'I  dent,  inhabitant ;  dweller. 

re  gls'tan^e,  opposition. 

re  source',  resort ;  any  source  of  aid 
or  support. 

re  spgc'tlve,  several ;  particular. 

rgt'l  nue,  a  body  of  retainers. 

r6v'el  ry,  boisterous  festivity  ;  merry- 
making. 

rl  dic'u  loOs,  absurd  ;  outrageous  ; 
laughable. 


riv'fi  Igt,  a  small  river ;  a  stream. 

Ro  cl  iian'te,  the  name  of  Don  Quix- 
ote's horse, 

ro'ta  to  ry,  circular  ;  turning  on  an 
axis. 

route,  way ;  road ;  passage ;  jour- 
ney. 

rfif  f I  an,  a  robber ;  cut-throat ;  mur- 
derer. 

.;  &  bot  (bo') ,  a  wooden  shoe. 

sa  gS^'I  ty,     intelligence  ;      wisdom  ; 

knowledge. 
sa  lute',  greet ;  welcome. 
s^t  IS  fac'tion  (shun),  contentment; 

atonement. 
saun  ter  (san') ,  loiter  ;  stroll. 
scab'bard,  sheath. 
scoun'drel,  kna%'e  ;  rogue. 
Se  go'vl  a,  a  province  of  old  Spain. 
sen'ior,  elder. 

sen'ti  ngl,  a  watch  ;  a  guard. 
se'quin,  a  coin  worth  about  $2.18. 
S6r6n'dlb,     an     ancient     name    of 

Ceylon. 
ser'pen  tine,      coiling  ;      snake-like  ; 

writhing. 
shn'ling,  an  English  silver  coin  worth 

about  twenty-four  cents. 
sim'i  lar,  alike  ;  akin  ;  resembling  one 

another. 
slSck'en,  loosen ;  relax. 
so  ci  a  hil'I  ty  (shi),  disposition  to  be 

friendly. 
so'ci  a  bly  (shi),  familiarly. 
sol 'J  ta  ry,  retired  ;  secluded  ;  lonely. 
spSg  mod'ic,  by  fits  and  staits. 
spec  ta'tor,       observer ;         witness ; 

looker-on. 
Stras'bourg,  the  capital   of  Alsace- 
Lorraine. 


^  272  B«- 


stir'rifp,  the  part  of  a  horse's  har- 
ness which  supports  the  rider's 
foot. 

siib  ter  ra'ne  an,  underground. 

sttffl'cient  (shent),  enough;  abun- 
dant. 

sfimp'to  ods,  rich  ;  gorgeous  ;  costly ; 
expensive. 

8Qn'drIe§,  various  small  articles. 

sn  per'flu  otts  (flo)  needless  ;  exces- 
sive. 

sur  vey  (va'),  overlook  ;  inspect ;  ex- 
amine. 

sur  vey  or  (va') ,  one  who  determines 
the  boundaries  of  land. 

tei'fi  scope,  an  optical  instrument  by 
which  distant  objects  are  made  to 
appear  nearer. 

te  mer'I  if,  recklessness  ;  daring. 

tes'tl  mo  ny,  bearing  witness. 

to  le'do,  a  sword  blade  made  in  To- 
ledo. 

tra  dl'tlon  (shun),  a  belief  or  report 
handed  down  from  age  to  age. 

trftf  He,  trade  ;  commerce. 

trftn'qun,  calm  ;  quiet ;  undisturbed ; 
serene. 

trans  f5rm',  change  ;  alter. 

tr&ns  par'ent,  easily  seen  through. 

tri  fim'phant,  victorious  ;  success- 
ful. 

trttf  fle,  an  edible  fungus  which  grows 
in  the  earth. 

trQm'pSt  er,  one  who  sounds  a  trum- 
pet. 

tiirn'pike,  highway  ;  also  a  toll-gate. 


u  nl  ver'sal,  general ;  common. 
fin  p&r'al  ISled,      unequalled  ;       un- 
matched. 

vfig'a  bdnd,  one  who  is  without  a 
settled  home. 

vSl'or  ofis,  brave  ;  courageous  ;  val- 
iant. 

vftn'qulsh,  subdue ;  defeat  j  over- 
power. 

van'tage,  gain  ;  profit. 

ve'he  ment  ly,  forcibly  ;  ardently. 

ve'hl  cle,  a  carriage. 

ven'er  a  ble,  worthy  of  reverence  ; 
aged. 

vgn'ture,  risk  ;  undertake  ;  hazard. 

vfis'per,  evening. 

vet'er  an,  grown  old  in  service. 

vgx  a'tion  (shun),  anger;  indigna- 
tion. 

vic'to  ry,  triumph  ;  success. 

vig'or  otts,  sound  ;  sturdy  ;  hearty  ; 
thrifty. 

vi'o  lent,  furious  ;  rough  ;  fierce. 

vir'tu  otts,  brave  ;  valorous  ;  pure  ; 
modest. 

vig'age,  appearance  ;  face  ;  counte- 
nance. 

wAr'rlor  (y§r),  soldier  ;   one  engaged 

in  warfare. 
wrftng'llng,  quarrelling  ;  disputing. 

ydn'der,  at  a  distance. 

ze'nith,  the  point  in  the  heavens  di- 
rectly above  one's  head. 


^  273  8«- 


PART   II 
ADVANCED  SELECTIONS 


entitle 
ascertain 
marvellous 
numerous 


BENJAMIN   WEST 

variegated 
tomahawk 
eminence 
apparition 


prophesied 
phenomenon 
dexterously 
transformation 


In  the  year  1738  there  came  into  the  world,  in  the 
town  of  Springfield,  Pennsylvania,  a  Quaker  infant,  from 
whom  his  parents  and  neighbors  looked  for  wonderful 
things.  A  famous  preacher  of  the  Society  of  Friends  had 
prophesied  about  little  Ben,  and  foretold  that  he  would 
be  one  of  the  most  remarkable  characters  that  had 
appeared  on  the  earth  since  the  days  of  William  Penn. 

On  this  account  the  eyes  of  many  people  were  fixed 
upon  the  boy.  Some  of  his  ancestors  had  won  great 
renown  in  the  old  wars  of  England  and  France ;  but  it  was 
probably  expected  that  Ben  would  become  a  preacher,  and 
would  convert  multitudes  to  the  peaceful  doctrines  of  the 
Quakers.  Friend  West  and  his  wife  were  thought  to  be 
very  fortunate  in  having  such  a  son. 


-»6  274  8«- 

Little  Ben  lived  to  the  ripe  age  of  six  years  without 
doing  anything  that  was  worthy  to  be  told  in  history. 
But  one  summer  afternoon,  in  his  seventh  year,  his 
mother  put  a  fan  into  his  hand  and  bade  him  keep  the 
flies  away  from  the  face  of  a  baby  who  lay  fast  asleep  in 
the  cradle.     She  then  left  the  room. 

The  boy  waved  the  fan  to  and  fro,  and  drove  away  the 
buzzing  flies  whenever  they  had  the  impertinence  to  come 
near  the  baby's  face.  When  they  had  all  flown  out  of 
the  window  or  into  distant  parts  of  the  room,  he  bent 
over  the  cradle  and  delighted  himself  with  gazing  at  the 
face  of  the  sleeping  infant. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  very  pretty  sight.  The  little  person- 
age in  the  cradle  slumbered  peacefully,  with  its  waxen 
hands  under  its  chin,  looking  as  full  of  blissful  quiet  as 
if  angels  were  singing  lullabies  in  its  ear.  Indeed,  it 
must  have  been  dreaming  about  heaven;  for  while  Ben 
stooped  over  the  cradle,  the  little  baby  smiled. 

"  How  beautiful  she  looks ! "  said  Ben  to  himself. 
"  What  a  pity  it  is  that  such  a  pretty  smile  should  not 
last  forever!  " 

Now  Ben,  at  this  period  of  his  life,  had  never  heard  of 
that  wonderful  art  by  which  a  look,  that  appears  and 
vanishes  in  a  moment,  may  be  made  to  last  for  hundreds 
of  years.  But,  though  nobody  had  told  him  of  such  an 
art,  he  may  be  said  to  have  invented  it  for  himself.  On 
a  table  near  at  hand  there  were  pens  and  paper,  and  ink 


^  275  8«- 

of  two  colors,  black  and  red.  The  boy  seized  a  pen  and 
sheet  of  paper,  and,  kneeling  beside  the  cradle,  began  to 
draw  a  likeness  of  the  infant.  While  he  was  busied  in 
this  manner  he  heard  his  mother's  step  approaching,  and 
hastily  tried  to  conceal  the  paper. 

"  Benjamin,  my  son,  what "  hast  thou  been  doing  ? " 
inquired  his  mother,  observing  marks  of  confusion  in  his 
face. 

At  first  Ben  was  unwilling  to  tell ;  for  he  felt  as  if 
there  might  be  something  wrong  in  stealing  the  baby's 
face  and  putting  it  upon  a  sheet  of  paper.  However,  as 
his  mother  insisted,  he  finally  put  the  sketch  into  her 
hand,  and  then  hung  his  head,  expecting  to  be  well 
scolded.  But  when  the  good  lady  saw  what  was  on  the 
paper,  in  lines  of  red  and  black  ink,  she  uttered  a  scream 
of  surprise  and  joy. 

"  Bless  me !  "  cried  she.    "  It  is  a  picture  of  little  Sally ! " 

And  then  she  threw  her  arms  around  our  friend  Ben- 
jamin, and  kissed  him  so  tenderly  that  he  never  afterwards 
was  afraid  to  show  his  performances  to  his  mother. 

As  Ben  grew  older,  he  was  observed  to  take  vast 
delight  in  looking  at  the  hues  and  forms  of  nature.  For 
instance,  he  was  greatly  pleased  with  the  blue  violets  of 
spring,  the  wild  roses  of  summer,  and  the  scarlet  cardinal- 
flowers  of  early  autumn. 

In  the  decline  of  the  year,  when  the  woods  were  varie- 
gated with  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  Ben  seemed  to 


-^  276  6«- 

desire  nothing  better  than  to  gaze  at  them  from  morn 
till  night.  The  purple  and  golden  clouds  of  sunset  were 
a  joy  to  him.  And  he  was  continually  endeavoring  to 
draw  the  figures  of  trees,  men,  moimtains,  houses,  cattle, 
geese,  ducks,  and  turkeys,  with  a  piece  of  chalk,  on  barn 
doors  or  on  the  floor. 

In  these  old  times  the  Mohawk  Indians  were  still 
numerous  in  Pennsylvania.  Every  year  a  party  of  them 
used  to  pay  a  visit  to  Springfield,  because  the  wigwams 
of  their  ancestors  had  formerly  stood  there.  These  wild 
men  grew  fond  of  little  Ben,  and  made  him  very  happy 
by  giving  him  some  of  the  red  and  yellow  paint  with 
which  they  were  accustomed  to  adorn  their  faces. 

His  mother,  too,  presented  him  with  a  piece  of  indigo. 
Thus  he  had  now  three  colors,  —  red,  blue,  and  yellow,  — 
and  could  manufacture  green  by  mixing  the  yellow  with 
the  blue.  Our  friend  Ben  was  overjoyed,  and  doubtless 
showed  his  gratitude  to  the  Indians  by  taking  their  like- 
nesses in  the  strange  dresses  which  they  wore,  with 
feathers,  tomahawks,  and  bows  and  arrows. 

But  all  this  time  the  young  artist  had  no  paint- 
brushes ;  nor  were  there  any  to  be  bought,  unless  he  had 
sent  to  Philadelphia  on  purpose.  However,  he  was  a 
very  ingenious  boy,  and  resolved  to  manufacture  paint- 
brushes for  himself.  With  this  design  he  laid  hold  upon 
—  what  do  you  think?  Why,  upon  a  respectable  old 
black  cat,  who  was  sleeping  quietly  by  the  fireside. 


^  277  ee- 

"  Puss,"  said  little  Ben  to  the  cat,  "  pray  give  me  some 
of  the  fur  from  the  tip  of  thy  tail." 

Though  he  addressed  the  black  cat  so  civilly,  yet  Ben 
was  determined  to  have  the  fur  whether  she  were  willing 
or  not.  Puss,  who  had  no  great  zeal  for  the  fine  arts, 
would  have  resisted  if  she  could  ;  but  the  boy  was  armed 
with  his  mother's  scissors,  and  very  dexterously  clipped 
off  fur  enough  to  make  a  paint-brush.  This  was  so  much 
use  to  him  that  he  applied  to  Madam  Puss  again  and 
again,  until  her  warm  coat  of  fur  had  become  so  ragged 
that  she  could  hardly  keep  comfortable  through  the 
winter.  Poor  thing !  she  was  forced  to  creep  close  into 
the  chimney  corner,  and  eyed  Ben  with  a  very  rueful  face. 
But  Ben  considered  it  more  necessary  that  he  should  have 
paint-brushes  than  that  Puss  should  be  warm. 

About  this  period  Friend  West  received  a  visit  from 
Mr.  Pennington,  a  merchant  of  Philadelphia,  who  was 
likewise  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  The  visitor, 
on  entering  the  parlor,  was  surprised  to  see  it  ornamented 
with  drawings  of  Indian  chiefs,  and  of  birds  with  beautiful 
plumage,  and  of  the  wild  flowers  of  the  forest.  Nothing 
of  the  kind  was  ever  seen  before  in  the  habitation  of  a 
Quaker  farmer. 

"  Why,  Friend  West,"  exclaimed  the  Philadelphia  mer- 
chant, "  what  has  possessed  thee  to  cover  thy  walls  with 
all  these  pictures?  Where  on  earth  didst  thou  get 
them?" 


-»8  278  8«- 

Then  Friend  West  explained  that  all  these  pictures 
were  painted  by  little  Ben,  with  no  better  materials  than 
red  and  yellow  ochre  and  a  piece  of  indigo,  and  with 
brushes  made  of  the  black  cat's  fur. 

*^ Verily,"  said  Mr.  Pennington,  "the  boy  hath  a 
wonderful  faculty.  Some  of  our  friends  might  look  upon 
these  matters  as  vanity ;  but  little  Benjamin  appears  to 
have  been  born  a  painter,  and  Providence  is  wiser  than 
we  are." 

The  good  merchant  patted  Benjamin  on  the  head,  and 
evidently  considered  him  a  wonderful  boy.  When  his 
parents  saw  how  much  their  son's  performances  were 
admired,  they,  no  doubt,  remembered  the  prophecy  of  the 
old  Quaker  preacher  respecting  Ben's  future  eminence. 
Yet  they  could  not  understand  how  he  was  ever  to  become 
a  very  great  and  useful  man  merely  by  making  pictures. 

One  evening,  shortly  after  Mr.  Pennington's  return  to 
Philadelphia,  a  package  arrived  at  Springfield,  directed 
to  our  little  friend  Ben. 

"  What  can  it  possibly  be  ?  "  thought  Ben,  when  it  was 
put  into  his  hands.  "  Who  can  have  sent  me  such  a 
great  square  package?" 

On  taking  off  the  thick  brown  paper  which  enveloped 
it,  behold!  there  was  a  paint-box,  with  a  great  many 
cakes  of  paint,  and  brushes  of  various  sizes.  It  was  the 
gift  of  good  Mr.  Pennington.  There  were  likewise  sev- 
eral squares  of  canvas  such  as  artists  use  for  painting 


-^  279  d^ 

pictures  upon,  and,  in  addition  to  all  these  treasures, 
some  beautiful  engravings  of  landscapes.  These  were 
the  first  pictures  that  Ben  had  ever  seen  except  those  of 
his  own  drawing. 

What  a  joyful  evening  was  this  for  the  little  artist ! 
At  bedtime  he  put  the  paint-box  under  his  pillow,  and  got 
hardly  a  wink  of  sleep ;  for,  all  night  long,  his  fancy  was 
painting  pictures  in  the  darkness.  In  the  morning  he 
hurried  to  the  garret,  and  was  seen  no  more  till  the  din- 
ner hour ;  nor  did  he  give  himself  time  to  eat  more  than 
a  mouthful  or  two  of  food  before  he  hurried  back  to  the 
garret  again.  The  next  day,  and  the  next,  he  was  just  as 
busy  as  ever ;  until  at  last  his  mother  thought  it  time  to 
ascertain  what  he  was  about.  She  accordingly  followed 
him  to  the  garret. 

On  opening  the  door,  the  first  object  that  presented 
itself  to  her  eyes  was  our  friend  Benjamin,  giving  the  last 
touches  to  a  beautiful  picture.  He  had  copied  portions  of 
two  of  the  engravings,  and  made  one  picture  out  of  both, 
with  such  admirable  skill  that  it  was  far  more  beautiful 
than  the  originals.  The  grass,  the  trees,  the  water,  the 
sky,  and  the  houses  were  all  painted  in  their  proper 
colors.  There,  too,  were  the  sunshine  and  the  shadow, 
looking  as  natural  as  life. 

"  My  dear  child,  thou  hast  done  wonders  !  "  cried  his 
mother. 

The  good  lady  was  in  an  ecstasy  of   delight.     And 


-^  280  »- 

well  might  she  be  proud  of  her  boy ;  for  there  were 
touches  in  this  picture  which  old  artists,  who  had  spent  a 
lifetime  in  the  business,  need  not  have  been  ashamed  of. 
Many  a  year  afterwards  this  wonderful  production  was 
exhibited  at  the  Royal  Academy  in  London. 

When  Benjamin  was  quite  a  large  lad  he  was  sent  to 
school  at  Philadelphia.  Not  long  after  his  arrival  he  had 
a  slight  attack  of  fever,  which  confined  him  to  his  bed. 
The  light,  which  would  otherwise  have  disturbed  him, 
was  excluded  from  his  chamber  by  means  of  closed 
wooden  shutters.  At  first  it  appeared  so  totally  dark 
that  Ben  could  not  distinguish  any  objects  in  the  room. 
By  degrees,  however,  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to  the 
scanty  light. 

He  was  lying  on  his  back,  looking  up  towards  the 
ceiling,  when  suddenly  he  beheld  the  dim  apparition  of  a 
white  cow  moving  slowly  over  his  head !  Ben  started, 
and  rubbed  his  eyes  in  the  greatest  amazement  at  this 
strange  sight. 

"What  can  this  mean?"  thought  he. 

The  white  cow  disappeared ;  and  next  came  several 
pigs,  which  trotted  along  the  ceiling  and  vanished  into 
the  darkness  of  the  chamber.  So  lifelike  did  these 
grunters  look  that  Ben  almost  seemed  to  hear  them 
squeak. 

"  Well,  this  is  very  strange ! "  said  Ben  to  himself. 

When  the  people  of  the  house  came  to  see  him,  Ben- 


-^  281  8«- 

jamin  told  them  of  the  marvellous  circumstance  which 
had  occurred,  but  they  would  not  believe  him. 

"  Benjamin,  thou  art  surely  out  of  thy  senses  !  "  cried 
they.  ''  How  is  it  possible  that  a  white  cow  and  a  lit- 
ter of  pigs  should  be  visible  on  the  ceiling  of  a  dark 
chamber  ?  " 

Ben,  however,  had  great  confidence  in  his  own  eye- 
sight, and  was  determined  to  search  the  mystery  to  the 
bottom.  For  this  purpose,  when  he  was  again  left  alone, 
he  got  out  of  bed  and  examined  the  window  shutters. 
He  soon  perceived  a  small  chink  in  one  of  them,  through 
which  a  ray  of  light  found  its  passage  and  rested  upon 
the  ceiling. 

Now,  the  science  of  optics  will  inform  us  that  the  pic- 
tures of  the  white  cow  and  the  pigs,  and  of  other  objects 
out  of  doors,  came  into  the  dark  chamber  through  this 
narrow  chink,  and  were  painted  over  Benjamin's  head. 
It  is  greatly  to  his  credit  that  he  discovered  the  scien- 
tific principle  of  this  phenomenon,  and,  by  means  of  it, 
constructed  a  camera  obscura,  or  magic  lantern,  out  of  a 
hollow  box.  This  was  of  great  advantage  to  him  in 
drawing  landscapes. 

Well,  time  went  on,  and  Benjamin  continued  to  draw 
and  paint  pictures  until  he  had  now  reached  the  age 
when  it  was  proper  that  he  should  choose  a  business  for 
life.  His  father  and  mother  were  in  considerable  per- 
plexity about  him.     According  to  the  ideas  of  the  Qua- 


^  282  ^ 

kers,  it  is  not  right  for  people  to  spend  their  lives  in 
occupations  that  are  no  real  and  sensible  advantage  to  the 
world.  Now,  what  advantage  could  the  world  expect 
from  Benjamin's  pictures  ?  This  was  a  difficult  ques- 
tion ;  and,  in  order  to  set  their  minds  at  rest,  his  par- 
ents determined  to  consult  the  preachers  and  wise  men 
of  their  society.  Accordingly,  they  all  assembled  in  the 
meeting-house  and  discussed  the  matter  from  beginning 
to  end. 

Finally  they  came  to  a  very  wise  decision.  It  seemed 
so  evident  that  Providence  had  created  Benjamin  to  be  a 
painter,  and  had  given  him  abilities  which  would  be 
thrown  away  in  any  other  business,  that  the  Quakers 
resolved  not  to  oppose  his  inclination.  They  even  ac- 
knowledged that  the  sight  of  a  beautiful  picture  might 
convey  instruction  to  the  mind,  and  might  benefit  the 
heart  as  much  as  a  good  book  or  a  wise  discourse. 

They  therefore  committed  the  youth  to  the  direction 
of  God,  being  well  assured  that  He  best  knew  what  was 
his  proper  sphere  of  usefulness.  The  old  men  laid  their 
hands  upon  Benjamin's  head  and  gave  him  their  blessing, 
and  the  women  kissed  him  affectionately.  All  consented 
that  he  should  go  forth  into  the  world  and  learn  to  be 
a  painter  by  studying  the  best  pictures  of  ancient  and 
modern  times. 

So  our  friend  Benjamin  left  the  dwelling  of  his  par- 
ents, and  his  native  woods  and  streams,  and  the  good 


-«283  B«- 

Quakers  of  Springfield,  and  the  Indians  who  had  given 
him  his  first  colors;  he  left  all  the  places  and  persons 
whom  he  had  hitherto  known,  and  returned  to  them  no 
more. 

He  went  first  to  Philadelphia,  and  afterwards  to 
Europe.  Here  he  was  noticed  by  many  great  people,  but 
he  retained  all  the  sobriety  and  simplicity  which  he  had 
learned  among  the  Quakers.  It  is  related  of  him,  that, 
when  he  was  presented  at  the  court  of  the  Prince  of 
Parma,  he  kept  his  hat  upon  his  head  even  while  kissing 
the  Prince's  hand. 

When  he  was  twenty-five  years  old  he  went  to  Lon- 
don, and  established  himself  there  as  an  artist.  In  due 
course  of  time  he  acquired  great  fame  by  his  pictures,  and 
was  made  chief  painter  to  King  George  Third,  and  presi- 
dent of  the  Royal  Academy  of  Arts. 

When  the  Quakers  of  Pennsylvania  heard  of  his  suc- 
cess, they  felt  that  the  prophecy  of  the  old  preacher  as  to 
little  Ben's  future  eminence  was  now  accomplished.  It  is 
true,  they  shook  their  heads  at  his  pictures  of  battle  and 
bloodshed,  such  as  the  Death  of  Wolfe,  thinking  that 
these  terrible  scenes  should  not  be  held  up  to  the  admira- 
tion of  the  world. 

But  they  approved  of  the  great  paintings  in  which  he 
represented  the  miracles  and  sufferings  of  the  Redeemer 
of  mankind.  King  George  employed  him  to  adorn  a 
large  and  beautiful  chapel  at  Windsor  Castle  with  pic- 


^  284  ^ 

tures  of  these  sacred  subjects.  He  likewise  painted  a  mag- 
nificent picture  of  Christ  Healing  the  Sick,  which  he  gave 
to  the  hospital  at  Philadelphia.  It  was  exhibited  to  the 
public,  and  produced  so  much  profit  that  the  hospital  was 
enlarged  so  as  to  accommodate  thirty  more  patients.  If 
Benjamin  West  had  done  no  other  good  deed  than  this, 
yet  it  would  have  been  enough  to  entitle  ^him  to  an  hon- 
orable remembrance  forever.  At  this  very  day  there  are 
thirty  poor  people  in  the  hospital  who  owe  all  their  com- 
forts to  that  same  picture. 

We  shall  mention  only  a  single  incident  more.  The 
picture  of  Christ  Healing  the  Sick  was  exhibited  at  the 
Royal  Academy  in  London,  where  it  covered  a  vast  space, 
and  displayed  a  multitude  of  figures  as  large  as  life.  On 
the  wall,  close  beside  this  admirable  picture,  hung  a  small 
and  faded  landscape.  It  was  the  same  that  little  Ben 
had  painted  in  his  father's  garret,  after  receiving  the 
paint-box  and  engravings  from  good  Mr.  Pennington. 

He  lived  many  years  in  peace  and  honor,  and  died  in 
1820,  at  the  age  of  eighty-two.  The  story  of  his  life  is 
almost  as  wonderful  as  a  fairy  tale ;  for  there  are  few 
stranger  transformations  than  that  of  a  little  unknown 
Quaker  boy  in  the  wilds  of  America  into  the  most  dis- 
tinguished painter  of  his  day. 

—  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 


-^  285  8«- 


THE   HUSKERS 


It  was  late  in  mild  October,  and  the  long  autumnal  rain 
Had  left  the  summer  harvest-fields  all  green  with  grass 


again 


The  first  sharp  frosts  had  fallen,  leaving  all  the  wood- 
lands gay 

With  the  hues  of  summer's  rainbow,  or  the  meadow- 
flowers  of  May. 

Through  a  thin,  dry  mist,  that   morning,  the   sun  rose 

broad  and  red, 
At  first  a  rayless  disk  of  fire,  he  brightened  as  he  sped ; 
Yet,  even  his  noontide  glory  fell  chastened  and  subdued. 
On   the  cornfields  and  the  orchard  and  softly  pictured 

wood. 

And  all  that  quiet  afternoon,  slow  sloping  to  the  night. 
He  wove  with  golden  shuttle  the  haze  with  yellow  light ; 
Slanting   through   the   painted  beeches,  he  glorified  the 

hill ; 
And,  beneath  it,  pond  and  meadow  lay  brighter,  greener 

still. 

And  shouting  boys  in  woodland  haunts  caught  glimpses 

of  that  sky. 
Flecked  by  many  tinted  leaves,  and  laughed,  they  knew 

not  why ; 


-^  286  8«- 

And  school-girls  gay  with  aster  flowers,  beside  the  meadow 

brooks, 
Mingled  the  glow  of  autumn  with  the  sunshine  of  sweet 

looks. 

From  spire  and  barn  looked  westerly  the  patient  weather- 
cocks ; 

But  even  the  birches  on  the  hill  stood  motionless  as 
rocks. 

No  sound  was  in  the  woodlands,  save  the  squirrel's  drop- 
ping shell, 

And  the  yellow  leaves  among  the  boughs,  low  rustling  as 
they  fell. 

The  summer  grains  were  harvested ;  the  stubble-fields  lay 

dry. 
Where  June  winds  rolled,  in  light  and  shade,  the  pale 

green  waves  of  rye  ; 
But   still,  on  gentle   hill-slopes,  in  valleys  fringed  with 

wood, 
Ungathered,  bleaching  in  the  sun,  the  heavy  corn  crop 

stood. 

Bent  low,  by  autumn's  wind  and  rain,  through  husks  that, 

dry  and  sere, 
Unfolded  from  their  ripened  charge,  shone  out  the  yellow 

ear ; 


-^  287  Q^ 

Beneath,   the  turnip  lay  concealed,   in  many  a  verdant 

fold, 
And  glistened  in  the  slanting  light  the  pumpkin's  sphere 

of  gold. 

There  wrought  the  busy  harvesters  ;  and  many  a  creak- 
ing wain 

Bore  slowly  to  the  long  barn-floor  its  load  of  husk  and 
grain ; 

Till  broad  and  red  as  when  he  rose,  the  sun  sank  down,  at 
last. 

And  like  a  merry  guest's  farewell,  the  day  in  brightness 


And  lo  !  as  through  the  western  pines,  on  meadow,  stream, 

and  pond. 
Flamed  the  red  radiance  of  a  sky,  set  all  afire  beyond. 
Slowly  o'er  the  eastern  sea-bluffs  a  milder  glory  shone. 
And  the  sunset  and  the  moonrise  were  mingled  into  one ! 

As  thus  into  the  quiet  night  the  twilight  lapsed  away, 
And  deeper  in  the  brightening  moon  the  tranquil  shadows 

lay, 
From  many  a  brown  old  farm-house,  and  hamlet  without 

name. 
Their   milking   and   their   home-tasks    done,   the   merry 

buskers  came. 


^  288  8«- 

Swung   o*er  the   heaped-up  harvest,  from   pitchforks  in 

the  mow, 
Shone   dimly  down    the  lanterns  on  the  pleasant  scene 

below ; 
The  growing  pile  of  husks  behind,  the  golden  ears  before, 
And   laughing  eyes  and  busy  hands  and  brown   cheeks 

glimmering  o*er. 

Half  hidden  in  a  quiet  nook,  serene  of  look  and  heart, 

Talking  their  old  times  over,  the  old  men  sat  apart ; 

While,  up  and  down  the  unhusked  pile,  or  nestling  in  its 
shade. 

At  hide-and-seek,  with  laugh  and  shout,  the  happy  chil- 
dren played. 

Urged  by  the  good  host's  daughter,  a  maiden  young  and 

fair. 
Lifting  to  light  her  sweet  blue  eyes  and  pride  of  soft 

brown  hair. 
The  master  of  the  village  school,  sleek  of  hair  and  smooth 

of  tongue, 
To  the  quaint  tune  of  some  old  psalm  a  husking-ballad 

sung. 

—  John  Grbbnlbaf  Whittier. 


-^  289  6«- 


SIR  ISAAC   NEWTON 

apprentice  conjecture 

profession  gravitation 

architect  reverential 

nobility  philosophy 


miniature 
Woolsthorpe 
mechanical 
magnificently 


On  Christmas  day,  in  the  year  1642,  Isaac  Newton 
was  born  at  the  small  village  of  Woolsthorpe,  in  England. 
Little  did  his  mother  think  that  he  was  destined  to 
explain  many  matters  which  had  been  a  mystery  ever 
since  the  creation  of  the  world.  Isaac  went  to  live  with 
his  grandmother  when  he  was  still  a  little  boy,  and  she 
was  very  kind  to  him  and  sent  him  to  school. 

In  his  early  years  he  did  not  appear  to  be  a  very 
bright  scholar,  but  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  his  ingenu- 
ity in  all  mechanical  occupations.  He  had  a  set  of  little 
tools  and  saws  of  various  sizes  manufactured  by  himself. 
With  the  aid  of  these  Isaac  contrived  to  make  many  curi- 
ous articles,  at  which  he  worked  with  so  much  skill  that 
he  seemed  to  have  been  born  with  a  saw  or  chisel  in  hand. 

The  neighbors  looked  with  vast  admiration  at  the 
things  which  Isaac  manufactured,  and  his  old  grand- 
mother, I  suppose,  was  never  weary  of  talking  about  him. 

"  He'll  make  a  capital  workman,  one  of  these  days," 
she  would  probably  say.  "  No  fear  but  what  Isaac  will 
do  well  in  the  world  and  be  a  rich  man  before  he  dies." 


■^  290^8«- 

It  is  amusing  to  conjecture  what  were  the  anticipa- 
tions of  his  grandmother  and  the  neighbors  about  Isaac's 
future  life  and  work.  Some  of  them,  perhaps,  fancied 
that  he  would  make  beautiful  furniture  of  mahogany, 
rosewood,  or  polished  oak,  inlaid  with  ivory  and  ebony, 
and  magnificently  gilded.  And  then,  doubtless,  all  the 
rich  people  would  purchase  these  fine  things  to  adorn 
their  drawing-rooms. 

Others  probably  thought  that  little  Isaac  was  destined 
to  be  an  architect,  and  would  build  splendid  mansions  for 
the  nobility  and  gentry,  and  churches,  too,  with  the  tall- 
est steeples  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  England. 

Some  of  his  friends,  no  doubt,  advised  Isaac's  grand- 
mother to  apprentice  him  to  a  clock-maker;  for,  besides 
his  mechanical  skill,  the  boy  seemed  to  have  a  taste  for 
mathematics,  which  would  be  very  useful  to  him  in  that 
profession.  And  then,  in  due  time,  Isaac  would  set  up 
for  himself,  and  would  manufacture  curious  clocks,  like 
those  that  contain  sets .  of  dancing  figures,  which  issue 
from  the  dial  plate  when  the  hour  is  struck ;  or  like  those 
where  a  ship  sails  across  the  face  of  the  clock,  and  is  seen 
tossing  up  and  down  on  the  waves  as  often  as  the  pendu- 
lum vibrates. 

Indeed,  there  was  some  ground  for  supposing  that 
Isaac  would  devote  himself  to  the  manufacture  of  clocks ; 
since  he  had  already  made  one  of  a  kind  which  nobody 
had  ever  heard  of  before.     It  was  set  a-going,  not  by 


-^  291  6«- 

wheels  and  weights  like  other  clocks,  but  by  the  dropping 
of  water.  This  was  an  object  of  great  wonderment  to  all 
the  people  round  about,  who  came  often  to  see  this  strange 
clock;  and  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  are  few  boys, 
or  men  either,  who  could  contrive  to  tell  what  o'clock  it 
is  by  means  of  a  bowl  of  water. 

Besides  the  water-clock,  Isaac  made  a  sun-dial.  Thus 
his  grandmother  was  never  at  a  loss  to  know  the  hour ; 
for  the  water-clock  would  tell  it  in  the  shade,  and  the 
dial  in  the  sunshine.  The  sun-dial  is  said  to  be  still  in 
existence  at  Woolsthorpe,  on  the  corner  of  the  house 
where  Isaac  dwelt.  If  so,  it  must  have  marked  the  pas- 
sage of  every  sunny  hour  that  has  elapsed  since  Isaac 
Newton  was  a  boy.  It  marked  all  the  famous  moments 
of  his  life ;  it  marked  the  hour  of  his  death ;  and  still  the 
sunshine  creeps  slowly  over  it,  as  regularly  as  when  Isaac 
first  set  it  up. 

Yet  we  must  not  say  that  the  sun-dial  has  lasted  longer 
than  its  maker ;  for  Isaac  Newton  will  exist  long  after 
the  dial  shall  have  crumbled  to  decay. 

Isaac  possessed  a  wonderful  faculty  of  acquiring  knowl- 
edge by  the  simplest  means  possible.  For  instance,  what 
method  do  you  suppose  he  took  to  find  out  the  strength 
of  the  wind  ?  You  will  never  guess  how  the  boy  could 
compel  that  unseen,  inconstant,  and  ungovernable  wonder, 
the  wind,  to  tell  him  the  measure  of  its  strength.  Yet 
nothing  can  be  more  simple.      He  jumped  against  the 


-«  292  Q^ 

wind ;  and  by  the  length  of  his  jump  he  could  calculate 
the  force  of  a  gentle  breeze,  a  brisk  gale,  or  a  tempest. 
Thus,  even  in  his  boyish  sports,  he  was  continually  search- 
ing out  the  secrets  of  philosophy. 

Not  far  from  his  grandmother's  residence  there  was  a 
windmill  which  operated  on  a  new  plan.  Isaac  was  in  the 
habit  of  going  thither  frequently,  and  would  spend  whole 
hours  in  examining  its  various  parts.  While  the  mill  was 
at  rest  he  pried  into  its  internal  machinery.  When  its 
broad  sails  were  set  in  motion  by  the  wind,  he  watched 
the  process  by  which  the  millstones  were  made  to  revolve 
and  crush  the  grain  that  was  put  into  the  hopper.  After 
gaining  a  thorough  knowledge  of  its  construction  he  was 
observed  to  be  unusually  busy  with  his  tools. 

It  was  not  long  before  his  grandmother  and  all  the 
neighborhood  knew  what  Isaac  had  been  about.  He  had 
constructed  a  model  of  the  windmill,  though  not  so  large, 
I  suppose,  as  one  of  the  box-traps  which  boys  set  to  catch 
squirrels ;  yet  every  part  of  the  mill  and  its  machinery 
was  complete. 

Its  little  sails  were  neatly  made  of  linen,  and  whirled 
round  very  swiftly  when  the  mill  was  placed  in  a  draft  of 
air.  Even  a  puff  of  wind  from  Isaac's  mouth  or  from  a 
pair  of  bellows  was  sufficient  to  set  the  sails  in  motion. 
And,  what  was  most  curious,  if  a  handful  of  grains  of 
wheat  were  put  into  the  little  hopper,  they  would  soon  be 
converted  into  snow-white  flour. 


^  293  8e- 

Isaac's  playmates  were  enchanted  with  his  new  wind- 
mill. They  thought  nothing  so  pretty  and  so  wonderful 
had  ever  been  seen  in  the  whole  world. 

"  But,  Isaac,"  said  one  of  them,  "  you  have  forgotten 
one  thing  that  belongs  to  a  mill." 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  asked  Isaac ;  for  he  supposed  that, 
from  the  roof  of  the  mill  to  its  foundation,  he  had  for- 
gotten nothing. 

"  Why,  where  is  the  miller  ?  "  said  his  friend. 

"  That  is  true  —  I  must  look  out  for  one,"  said  Isaac ; 
and  he  set  himself  to  consider  how  this  deficiency  should 
be  supplied. 

He  might  easily  make  the  miniature  figure  of  a  man ; 
but  then  it  would  not  have  been  able  to  move  about  and 
perform  the  duties  of  a  miller.  As  Captain  Lemuel  Gul- 
liver had  not  yet  discovered  the  island  of  Lilliput,  Isaac 
did  not  know  that  there  were  little  men  in  the  world 
whose  size  was  just  suited  to  his  windmill.  It  so  hap- 
pened, however,  that  a  mouse  had  just  been  caught  in  the 
trap;  and,  as  no  other  miller  of  a  suitable  size  could  be 
found,  Mister  Mouse  was  immediately  appointed  to  that 
important  office.  The  new  miller  made  a  very  respectable 
appearance  in  his  dark  gray  coat.  To  be  sure,  he  had  not 
a  very  good  character  for  honesty,  and  was  suspected  of 
sometimes  stealing  a  portion  of  the  grain  which  was  given 
him  to  grind. 

As  Isaac  grew  older,  it  was  found  that  he  had  far  more 


->8  294  8«- 

important  matters  in  his  mind  than  the  manufacture  of 
toys  like  the  windmill.  All  day  long,  if  left  to  himself, 
he  was  either  absorbed  in  thought  or  engaged  in  some 
book  of  mathematics  or  natural  philosophy.  At  night,  I 
think  it  probable,  he  looked  up  with  reverential  curiosity 
to  the  stars,  and  wondered  whether  they  were  worlds  like 
our  own,  and  how  great  was  their  distance  from  the  earth, 
and  what  was  the  power  that  kept  them  in  their  courses. 
Perhaps,  even  so  early  in  life,  Isaac  Newton  felt  a  presenti- 
ment that  he  should  be  able,  hereafter,  to  answer  all  these 
questions. 

When  Isaac  was  fourteen  years  old,  he  spent  a  year  or 
two  in  assisting  his  mother  in  managing  her  farm.  But 
his  mind  was  so  bent  on  becoming  a  scholar  that  his 
mother  sent  him  back  to  school,  and  afterwards  to  the 
University  at  Cambridge. 

I  have  now  finished  my  anecdotes  of  Isaac  Newton's 
boyhood.  My  story  would  be  far  too  long  were  I  to 
mention  all  the  splendid  discoveries  which  he  made  after 
he  came  to  be  a  man.  He  was  the  first  that  found  out 
the  nature  of  light ;  for,  before  his  day,  nobody  could  tell 
what  the  sunshine  was  composed  of. 

You  remember,  I  suppose,  the  story  of  an  apple's  fall- 
ing on  his  head,  while  he  was  lying  in  the  grass  under  an 
apple-tree,  and  thus  leading  him  to  discover  the  force  of 
gravitation,  which  keeps  the  heavenly  bodies  in  their 
courses.     When  he  had  once  got  hold  of  this  idea,  he 


-^  295  ^ 

never  permitted  his  mind  to  rest  until  he  had  searched  out 
all  the  laws  by  which  the  planets  are  guided  through  the 
sky.  This  he  did  as  thoroughly  as  if  he  had  gone  up 
among  the  stars  and  tracked  them  in  their  orbits.  The 
boy  had  found  out  the  mechanism  of  a  windmill;  the 
man  explained  to  his  fellow-men  the  mechanism  of  the 
universe. 

While  making  these  researches  he  was  accustomed  to 
spend  night  after  night  in  a  lofty  tower,  gazing  at  the 
heavenly  bodies  through  a  telescope.  His  mind  was 
lifted  far  above  the  things  of  this  world.  He  may  be 
said,  indeed,  to  have  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  life  in 
worlds  that  lie  thousands  and  millions  of  miles  away  ;  for 
where  the  thoughts  and  the  heart  are,  there  is  our  true 
existence. 

Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  Newton  and  his  little 
dog  Diamond?  One  day,  when  he  was  fifty  years  old, 
and  had  been  hard  at  work  more  than  twenty  years 
studying  the  theory  of  light,  he  went  out  of  his  chamber, 
leaving  this  little  dog  asleep  before  the  fire.  On  the  table 
lay  a  heap  of  manuscript  papers,  containing  all  the  dis- 
coveries which  Newton  had  made  during  those  twenty 
years.  When  his  master  was  gone,  up  rose  little  Diamond, 
jumped  upon  the  table,  and  overthrew  the  lighted  candle. 
The  papers  immediately  caught  fire. 

Just  as  the  destruction  was  completed  Newton  opened 
the  chamber  door,  and  perceived  that  the  labors  of  twenty 


-^  296  8<- 

years  were  reduced  to  a  heap  of  ashes.  There  stood  little 
Diamond,  the  author  of  all  the  mischief.  Almost  any  other 
man  would  have  sentenced  the  dog  to  immediate  death, 
but  Newton  patted  him  on  the  head  with  his  usual  kind- 
ness, although  grief  was  at  his  heart. 

"  0  Diamond,  Diamond,"  exclaimed  he,  "  thou  little 
knowest  the  mischief  thou  hast  done  !  " 

The  loss  of  these  valuable  papers  affected  his  health 
and  spirits  for  some  time  afterwards;  but,  from  his  con- 
duct towards  the  little  dog,  you  may  judge  what  was  the 
sweetness  of  his  temper. 

Newton  lived  to  be  a  very  old  man,  and  acquired  great 
renown ;  he  was  made  a  member  of  Parliament,  and 
received  the  honor  of  knighthood  from  the  king.  But  he 
cared  little  for  earthly  fame  and  honors,  and  felt  no  pride 
in  the  vastness  of  his  knowledge.  All  that  he  had  learned 
made  him  feel  how  little  he  knew  in  comparison  to  what 
remained  to  be  known. 

"  I  seem  to  myself  like  a  child,"  observed  he,  "  playing 
on  the  seashore,  and  picking  up  here  and  there  a  curious 
shell  or  a  pretty  pebble,  while  the  boundless  ocean  of 
Truth  lies  undiscovered  before  me." 

—  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 


-«  297  B«- 


THE   JOURNAL   OF   ROBINSON   CRUSOE 


oakum 

credible 

diversion 

interval 

desisted 

semicircle 

mechanic 

deficient 

commodiously 

gudgeon 

occupancy 

fortification 

September  30, 1659, 1,  poor,  miserable  Robinson  Crusoe, 
being  shipwrecked  during  a  dreadful  storm  in  the  offing, 
came  on  shore  on  this  dismal,  unfortunate  island,  which 
I. called  the  Island  of  Despair,  all  the  rest  of  the  ship's 
company  being  drowned,  and  myself  almost  dead. 

I  had  neither  food,  house,  clothes,  weapon,  nor  place  to 
fly  to,  and,  in  despair  of  any  relief,  saw  nothing  but 
death  before  me,  either  that  I  should  be  devoured  by  wild 
beasts,  murdered  by  savages,  or  starved  to  death  for  want 
of  food.  At  the  approach  of  night  I  slept  in  a  tree,  for 
fear  of  wild  creatures,  but  slept  soundly,  though  it  rained 
all  night. 

October  1.  In  the  morning  I  saw,  to  my  great  sur- 
prise, the  ship  had  floated  with  the  high  tide,  and  was 
driven  on  shore  much  nearer  the  island.  This  was  some 
comfort ;  for,  seeing  her  sit  upright,  and  not  broken  to 
pieces,  I  hoped,  if  the  wind  abated,  I  might  go  on  board, 
and  get  some  food  or  necessaries  out  of  her  for  my  relief. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  renewed  my  grief  at  the  loss  of  my 
comrades,  who,  I  imagined,  if  we  had  all  stayed  on  board. 


-^  298  8«- 

might  have  saved  the  ship,  or  at  least  that  they  would 
not  have  been  drowned,  as  they  were,  and  that,  had  the 
men  been  saved,  we  might,  perhaps,  have  built  us  a  boat 
out  of  the  ruins  of  the  ship,  to  carry  us  to  some  other 
part  of  the  world.  I  spent  a  great  part  of  this  day  in 
perplexing  myself  about  these  things ;  but,  at  length 
seeing  the  ship  almost  dry,  I  walked  upon  the  sand  as 
near  as  possible,  and  then  swam  on  board.  This  day, 
also,  it  continued   raining,  though  with  no  wind  at  all. 

From  the  first  of  October  to  the  24:th.  All  these  days 
were  spent  in  making  several  voyages  to  get  all  T  could 
out  of  the  ship,  which  I  brought  on  shore,  at  every  flood 
tide,  upon  rafts.  Much  rain  in  these  days,  though  with 
some  intervals  of  fair  weather.  It  seems  this  was  the 
rainy  season. 

October  20.  I  overset  my  raft,  and  all  the  goods  I 
had  upon  it ;  but,  being  in  shoal  water,  and  the  things 
being  chiefly  heavy,  I  recovered  many  of  them  when  the 
tide  was  out. 

October  25.  It  rained  all  night  and  all  day,  with  some 
gusts  of  wind,  during  which  time  the  ship  broke  in 
pieces,  and  was  no  more  to  be  seen,  except  the  wreck  of 
her,  and  that  only  at  low  water.  I  spent  the  day  in  cov- 
ering and  securing  the  goods  which  I  had  saved,  that  the 
rain  might  not  spoil  them. 

October  26.  I  walked  about  the  shore  almost  all  day, 
to  find  a  place  to  fix  my  habitation,  greatly  concerned  to 


-«  299  ^  ' 

secure  myself  from  any  attack  in  the  night,  either  from 
wild  beasts  or  men.  Toward  night  I  fixed  upon  a  proper 
place  under  a  rock,  and  marked  out  a  semicircle  for  my 
encampment,  which  I  resolved  to  strengthen  with  a  wall, 
or  fortification  made  of  double  piles,  lined  within  with 
cables  and  without  with  turf. 

From  the  2^th  to  the  SOth,  I  worked  very  hard  in 
carrying  all  my  goods  to  my  new  fortification,  though 
some  part  of  the  time  it  rained  exceeding  hard. 

November  1st.  1  set  up  my  tent  under  a  rock,  making 
it  as  large  as  I  could  with  stakes  driven  in  to  swing  my 
hammock  upon  and  lay  there  for  the  first  night. 

Novemher  2.  I  set  up  all  my  chests  and  boards,  and 
the  pieces  of  timber  which  made  my  rafts,  and  with  them 
formed  a  fence  round  me,  a  little  within  the  place  I  had 
marked  out  for  my  fortification. 

November  4.  This  morning  I  began  to  order  my  time 
of  work,  time  of  going  out  with  my  gun,  time  of  sleep, 
and  time  of  diversion.  Every  morning  I  walked  out  with 
my  gun  for  two  or  three  hours,  if  it  did  not  rain ;  then 
employed  myself  to  work  till  about  eleven  o'clock ;  then 
ate  what  I  had  to  live  on,  and  from  twelve  to  two  I  lay 
down  to  sleep,  the  weather  being  excessively  hot;  and 
then,  in  the  evening,  to  work  again.  The  working  part 
of  this  day,  and  of  the  next,  was  wholly  employed  in 
making  my  table ;  for  I  was  yet  but  a  very  sorry  work- 
man, though  time   and   necessity  made   me   a   complete 


^  300  B^ 

natural  mechanic  soon  after,  as  I  believe  it -would  do  any 
one  else. 

November  6.  After  my  morning  walk  I  went  to  work 
with  my  table  again,  and  finished  it,  though  not  to  my 
liking ;  nor  was  it  long  before  I  learned  to  mend  it. 

Novemher  7.  Now  it  began  to  be  settled,  fair  weather. 
The  7th,  8th,  9th,  10th,  and  a  part  of  the  12th  (for  the 
11th  was  Sunday),  I  took  wholly  up  to  make  me  a  chair, 
and  with  much  ado  brought  it  to  a  tolerable  shape,  but 
never  to  please  me ;  and  even  in  the  making  I  pulled  it 
in  pieces  several  times. 

November  13.  This  day  it  rained,  which  refreshed  me 
exceedingly,  and  cooled  the  earth ;  but  it  was  accom- 
panied with  terrible  thunder  and  lightning,  which  fright- 
ened me  dreadfully  for  fear  of  my  powder.  As  soon  as  it 
was  over,  I  resolved  to  separate  my  stock  of  powder  into 
as  many  little  parcels  as  possible,  that  it  might  not  be  in 
danger. 

November  14,  15,  16.  These  three  days  I  spent  in 
making  little  square  chests  or  boxes,  which  might  hold 
about  a  pound  or  two  pounds  at  most,  of  powder ;  and  so, 
putting  the  powder  in,  I  stowed  it  in  places  as  secure  and 
remote  from  one  another  as  possible.  On  one  of  these 
three  days  I  killed  a  large  bird  that  was  good  to  eat,  but 
I  know  not  what  to  call  it. 

November  17.  This  day  I  began  to  dig  behind  my  tent 
into  the  rock,  to  make  room  for  my  further  convenience. 


-^  301  B^ 

Note.  —  Three  things  I  needed  for  this  work ;  namely,  a  pick- 
axe, a  shovel,  and  a  wheelbarrow  or  basket ;  so  I  desisted  from  my 
work,  and  began  to  consider  how  to  supply  this  need,  and  make  me 
some  tools.  As  for  a  pickaxe,  I  made  use  of  iron  crows  which  were 
proper  enough,  though  heavy ;  but  the  next  thing  was  a  shovel  or 
spade.  This  was  so  absolutely  necessary,  that  I  could  do  nothing 
without  it ;  but  what  kind  of  one  to  make  I  knew  not. 

November  18.  The  next  day,  in  searching  the  woods, 
I  found  a  tree  of  that  wood,  or  like  it,  which  in  the 
Brazils  they  call  the  iron  tree,  for  its  exceeding  hardness. 
I  cut  a  piece  of  this  and  brought  it  home,  too,  with 
difficulty,  for  it  was  exceeding  heavy. 

The  excessive  hardness  of  the  wood  made  me  a  long 
while  upon  this  tool ;  for  I  worked  it  effectually  by  little 
and  little  into  the  form  of  a  shovel  or  spade,  the  handle 
exactly  shaped  like  ours  in  England,  only  that  the  broad 
part  having  no  iron  upon  it  at  the  bottom,  it  would  not 
last  me  so  long.  However,  it  served  well  enough  for  the 
uses  which  I  had  occasion  to  put  it  to ;  but  never  was  a 
shovel,  I  believe,  made  after  that  fashion,  or  so  long  in 
making. 

I  was  still  deficient,  for  I  wanted  a  basket  or  a 
wheelbarrow.  A  basket  I  could  not  make  by  any  means, 
having  no  such  thing  as  twigs  that  would  bend  to  make 
wicker  ware,  —  at  least,  not  yet  discovered ;  and  as  to  a 
wheelbarrow,  I  fancied  I  could  make  all  but  the  wheel, 
but  that  I  had  no  notion  of,  neither  did  T  know  how  to 


-^  302  8«- 

go  about  it ;  besides,  I  had  no  possible  way  to  make  the 
iron  gudgeons  for  the  spindle  or  axis  of  the  wheel  to  run 
in,  so  I  gave  up  this  idea.  For  carrying  away  the  earth 
which  I  dug  out  of  the  cave,  I  made  me  a  thing  like  a 
hod,  which  the  laborers  carry  mortar  in,  when  they  serve 
the  bricklayers. 

This  was  not  so  difficult  to  me  as  the  making  the 
shovel;  and  yet  this,  and  the  shovel,  and  the  attempt 
which  I  made  in  vain  to  make  a  wheelbarrow,  took  up 
no  less  than  four  days ;  I  mean  always  excepting  my 
morning  walk  with  my  gun,  which  I  seldom  omitted. 

November  23.  My  other  work  having  now  stood  still 
because  of  my  making  these  tools,  when  they  were  fin- 
ished I  went  on,  and  working  every  day  as  my  strength 
and  time  allowed,  I  spent  eighteen  days  entirely  in 
widening  and  deepening  my  cave,  that  it  might  hold 
my  goods  commodiously. 

Note.  —  During  all  this  time,  I  worked  to  make  this  room  or  cave 
spacious  enough  to  accommodate  me  as  a  warehouse  or  magazine,  a 
kitchen,  a  dining  room,  and  a  cellar ;  as  for  my  lodging,  I  kept  to 
the  tent,  except  that  sometimes  in  the  wet  season  of  the  year  it 
rained  so  hard  that  I  could  not  keep  myself  diy,  which  caused  me 
afterwards  to  cover  all  the  place  within  the  pale  with  long  poles  in 
the  form  of  rafters,  leaning  against  the  rock,  and  load  them  with 
flags  and  large  leq-ves  of  trees  like  a  thatch. 

December  10.  I  began  now  to  think  my  cave  or 
vault  finished ;  when,  on  a  sudden  (it  seems  I  had  made 


-«  303  S«- 

it  too  large),  a  great  quantity  of  earth  fell  down  from 
the  top  and  one  side,  so  much,  indeed,  that  it  frightened 
me.  Upon  this  disaster  I  had  a  great  deal  of  work  to  do 
over  again ;  for,  I  had  the  loose  earth  to  carry  out ;  and, 
what  was  of  more  importance,  I  had  the  ceiling  to  prop 
up,  so  that  I  might  be  sure  no  more  would  come  down. 

December  20.  I  carried  everything  into  the  cave, 
which  was  at  last  ready  for  occupancy,  and  began  to 
finish  my  house,  and  set  up  some  pieces  of  boards,  like 
a  dresser,  to  place  my  food  upon ;  but  boards  began  to 
be  very  scarce  with  me.     I  made  also  another  table. 

December  24.  Much  rain  all  night  and  all  day;  no 
stirring  out. 

December  25.     Eain  all  day. 

December  26.  No  rain ;  and  the  earth  much  cooler 
than  before,  and  pleasanter. 

December  27.  Killed  a  young  goat,  and  lamed  another, 
so  that  I  caught  it,  and  led  it  home  by  a  string.  When 
I  got  it  home,  I  bound  and  splintered  up  its  leg,  which 
was  broken.  I  took  such  care  of  it  that  it  lived,  and  the 
leg  grew  well  and  as  strong  as  ever ;  but,  by  nursing  it 
so  long,  it  grew  tame,  and  fed  upon  the  little  green  at 
my  door,  and  would  not  go  away.  This  was  the  first 
time  that  I  entertained  a  thought  of  having  some  tame 
creatures,  that  I  might  have  food  when  my  powder  and 
shot  was  all  spent. 

December  28,  29,  30.     Great  heats  and  no  breeze,  so 


-^  304  8«- 

that  there  was  no  stirring  abroad,  except  in  the  evening 
for  food.  This  time  I  spent  in  putting  all  my  things  in 
order  within  doors. 

January  1.  Very  hot  still,  but  I  went  abroad  early 
and  late  with  my  gun,  and  lay  still  in  the  middle  of  the 
day.  This  evening,  going  farther  into  the  valleys,  which 
lay  towards  the  centre  of  the  island,  I  found  there  plenty 
of  goats,  though  they  were  exceeding  shy  on  my  approach  ; 
however,  I  resolved  to  try  if  I  could  not  bring  my  dog  to 
hunt  them  down. 

January  2.  I  went  out  to-day  with  my  dog,  and  set 
him  upon  the  goats ;  but  I  was  mistaken,  for  they  all 
faced  about  upon  the  dog ;  and  he  knew  his  danger  too 
well,  for  he  would  not  go  near  them. 

Jauuary  3.  I  began  my  fence  or  wall;  which,  being 
still  fearful  of  attack  by  savages,  I  resolved  to  make  very 
thick  and  strong.  I  was  no  less  time  than  from  the 
3d  of  January  to  the  14th  of  April,  in  building,  finish- 
ing, and  perfecting  this  wall,  though  it  was  no  more 
than  about  twenty-four  yards  in  length,  being  a  half- 
circle  from  one  place  in  the  rock  to  another  place  about 
eight  yards  from  it,  —  the  door  of  the  cave  being  in  the 
centre  behind  it. 

All  this  time  I  worked  very  hard,  the  rains  hindering 
me  many  days,  nay,  sometimes  weeks  together,  but  I 
thought  I  should  never  be  perfectly  secure  until  this 
wall  was  finished;  and  it  is  scarcely  credible  what  in- 


-^  305  8«- 

expressible  labor  every  thing  was  done  with,  especially 
the  bringing  piles  out  of  the  woods,  and  driving  them 
into  the  ground,  for  I  made  them  much  bigger  than  I 
need  to  have  done. 

When  this  wall  was  finished,  and  the  outside  double 
fence  with  a  turf-wall  raised  up  close  to  it,  I  persuaded 
myself  that  if  any  people  were  to  come  on  shore  they 
would  not  perceive  anything  like  a  habitation  ;  and  it 
was  very  well  I  did  so,  as  may  be  observed  hereafter 
upon  a  very  remarkable  occasion. 

During  this  time  I  made  my  rounds  in  the  woods  for 
game  every  day,  when  the  rain  permitted  me,  and  made 
frequent  discoveries  in  these  walks  of  something  or  other 
to  my  advantage.  Particularly  I  found  a  kind  of  wild 
pigeons,  who  built,  not  as  wood  pigeons,  in  a  tree,  but 
rather  like  house  pigeons,  in  the  holes  of  the  rocks. 
Taking  some  young  ones,  I  endeavored  to  tame  them, 
and  did  so  ;  but,  when  they  grew  older  they  flew  away, 
which,  perhaps,  was  at  first  from  want  of  feeding  them, 
for  I  had  nothing  to  give  them.  However,  I  frequently 
found  their  nests,  and  got  their  young  ones,  which  were 
very  good  to  eat. 

And  now,  in  managing  my  household  affairs,  I  found 
myself  wanting  in  many  things,  which  I  thought  at  first 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  make,  as  indeed,  as  to  some 
of  them  it  was  ;  for  instance,  I  could  not  make  a  cask  to 
be  hooped.     I  had  a  small   runlet   or  two,  but  I   could 


-^  306  8«- 

never  succeed  in  making  one  of  them,  though  I  spent 
many  weeks  about  it.  I  could  neither  put  in  the  heads, 
or  joint  the  staves  so  true  to  one  another  as  to  make 
them  hold  water,  so  I  gave  that  up  also. 

In  the  next  place,  I  was  at  a  great  loss  for  candles ; 
so  that  as  soon  as  ever  it  was  dark,  which  was  generally 
by  seven  o'clock,  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed.  The  only 
remedy  I  had  was,  that  when  I  killed  a  goat  I  saved 
the  tallow,  and  with  a  little  dish  made  of  clay,  which 
I  baked  in  the  sun,  to  which  I  added  a  wick  of  some 
oakum,  I  made  a  lamp.  This  gave  me  light,  though  not 
a  clear,  steady  light  like  a  candle. 

In  the  middle  of  all  my  labors,  it  happened  that, 
rummaging  among  my  things,  I  found  a  little  bag,  which, 
as  I  hinted  before,  had  been  filled  with  grain  for  the 
feeding  of  poultry.  What  little  remainder  of  grain  had 
been  in  the  bag  was  all  devoured  by  the  rats,  and  I  saw 
nothing  in  the  bag  but  husks  and  dust.  Being  willing 
to  have  the  bag  for  some  other  use  (I  think  it  was  to 
put  powder  in,  when  I  divided  it  for  fear  of  lightning, 
or  some  such  use),  I  shook  the  husks  out  of  it  on  one  side 
of  my  fortifications  under  the  rock. 

It  was  a  little  before  the  great  rains  just  now  men- 
tioned, that  I  threw  this  stuff  away,  taking  no  notice  of 
anything,  and  not  so  much  as  remembering  that  I  had 
thrown  anything  there.  About  a  month  after,  I  saw 
a   few  stalks  of   something  green  shooting   out   of   the 


-^  307  B^ 

ground,  which  I  fancied  might  be  some  plant  I  had 
not  seen  ;  but  I  was  surprised  and  perfectly  astonished, 
when,  after  a  little  longer  time,  I  saw  about  ten  or  twelve 
ears  come  out,  which  was  perfect  green  barley  of  the 
same  kind  as  our  European,  nay,  as  our  English  barley. 

I  carefully  saved  the  ears  of  this  grain,  you  may  be 
sure,  in  their  season,  which  was  about  the  end  of  June, 
and  laying  up  every  kernel  I  resolved  to  sow  them  all 
again,  hoping  in  time  to  have  some  quantity  sufficient 
to  supply  me  with  bread.  It  was  not  till  the  fourth  year 
that  I  could  allow  myself  the  least  kernel  of  this  grain  to 
eat,  and  even  then  but  sparingly.  I  lost  nearly  all  that  I 
sowed  the  first  season,  by  not  observing  the  proper 
time  ;  for  I  sowed  it  just  before  the  dry  season,  so  that 
it  never  came  up  at  all,  at  least,  not  as  it  would  have 
done  had  it  been  sown  in  the  wet  season. 

Besides  the  barley,  there  were  twenty  or  thirty  stalks 
of  rice,  which  I  preserved  with  the  same  care,  and  whose 
use  was  of  the  same  kind  ;  namely,  to  make  me  food  ; 
for  I  found  ways  to  cook  it  up  without  baking,  though 
I  did  that  also  after  some  time.  But  to  return  to  my 
journal. 

I  worked  excessively  hard  for  three  or  four  months 
to  get  my  wall  done  ;  and  the  14th  of  April  I  closed  it  up, 
contriving  to  go  into  it,  not  by  a  door,  but  over  the  wall 
by  a  ladder,  that  there  might  be  no  sigji  of  my  habita- 
tion. —  Daniel  Defoe. 


■^  308  8<- 


ABOU   BEN   ADHEM 

Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  his  tribe  increase !) 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 
And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 
Making  it  rich,  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 
An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold :  — 
Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold, 
And  to  the  Presence  in  the  room  he  said, 
"  What  writest  thou  ?  "  —  the  vision  raised  its  head, 
And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord. 
Answered,  "  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord." 
"  And  is  mine  one  ?  "  said  Abou.     "  Nay,  not  so," 
Replied  the  Angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low. 
But  cheerily,  still ;  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then. 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellowmen." 

The  angel  wrote,  and  vanished.     The  next  night 
It  came  again,  with  a  great  wakening  light. 
And  showed  the  names  whom  love  of  God  had  blessed, 
And,  lo !  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest ! 

—  Leigh  Hunt. 

Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-control,  — 
These  three  alone  lead  life  to  sovereign  power. 

—  Tknnyson. 


^  3C9  8«- 


RALEIGH'S   CLOAK 


jerkin 
halberd 
retinue 
wherries 


alleged 
gallantry 
culverin 
penitence 


liegeman 
deservedly 
inclination 
mysterious 


reluctance 
admiration 
impetuosity 
justification 


A  royal  barge,  manned  with  the  queen's  water-men, 
richly  attired  in  the  regal  liveries,  and  having  the  banner 
of  England  displayed,  lay  at  the  great  stairs  which 
ascended  from  the  river,  and  along  with  it  two  or  three 
other  boats  for  transporting  such  part  of  her  retinue  as 
were  not  in  immediate  attendance  on  the  royal  person. 
The  yeomen  of  the  guard,  the  tallest  and  most  handsome 
men  whom  England  could  produce,  guarded  with  their 
halberds  the  passage  from  the  palace  gate  to  the  river- 
side, and  all  seemed  in  readiness  for  the  queen's  coming 
forth,  although  the  day  was  yet  early. 

"  By  my  faith,  this  bodes  us  no  good,"  said  Blount. 
"  It  must  be  some  perilous  cause  puts  her  grace  in  motion 
thus  untimely.  By  my  counsel,  we  were  best  put  back 
again,  to  tell  the  earl  what  we  have  seen." 

"  Tell  the  earl  what  we  have  seen !  "  said  Walter ; 
"why,  what  have  we  seen  but  a  boat,  and  men  with 
scarlet  jerkins,  and  halberds  in  their  hands  ?  Let  us  do 
his  errand,  and  tell  him  what  the  queen  says  in  reply." 

So  saying,  he  caused  their  boat  to  be  pulled  toward  a 
landing-place   at   some   distance  from  the  principal  one, 


-98  310  8«- 

which  it  would  not,  at  that  moment,  have  been  thought 
respectful  to  approach,  and  jumped  on  shore,  followed, 
though  with  reluctance,  by  his  cautious  and  timid  com- 
panion. As  they  approached  the  gate  of  the  palace,  one 
of  the  sergeant-porters  told  them  they  could  not  at  pres- 
ent enter,  as  her  Majesty  was  in  the  act  of  coming  forth. 
The  gentlemen  used  the  name  of  the  Earl  of  Sussex ;  but 
it  proved  no  charm  to  subdue  the  officer,  who  alleged  in 
reply,  that  it  was  as  much  as  the  post  was  worth  to  dis- 
obey in  the  least  tittle  the  commands  which  he  had 
received. 

"Nay,  I  told  you  as  much  before,"  said  Blount;  "do, 
I  pray  you,  my  dear  Raleigh,  let  us  take  our  boat  and 
return." 

"  Not  till  I  see  the  queen  come  forth,"  returned  the 
youth,  composedly. 

"  Thou  art  mad,  stark  mad  !  "  answered  Blount. 

"  And  thou,"  said  Raleigh,  "  art  turned  coward  of  a 
sudden.  I  have  seen  thee  face  half  a  score  of  rough  fel- 
lows single-handed,  and  now  thou  wouldst  blink  and  go 
back  to  shun  the  frown  of  a  fair  lady !  " 

At  this  moment  the  gates  opened,  and  ushers  began  to 
issue  forth  in  array,  preceded  and  flanked  by  the  band  of 
gentlemen  pensioners.  After  this,  amid  a  crowd  of  lords 
and  ladies,  yet  so  disposed  around  her  that  she  could  see 
and  be  seen  on  all  sides,  came  Elizabeth,  herself,  then  in 
the  prime  of  womanhood,  and  in  the  full  glow  of  what  in 


^  311  8«- 

a  sovereign  was  called  beauty,  and  who  would  in  the  low- 
est rank  of  life  have  been  truly  judged  a  noble  figure, 
joined  to  a  striking  "and  commanding  face.  She  leaned 
on  the  arm  of  Lord  Hounsdon,  whose  relation  to  her  by 
her  mother's  side  often  procured  him  such  distinguished 
marks  of  Elizabeth's  friendliness. 

The  young  Walter  Raleigh  had  probably  never  yet 
approached  so  near  his  queen,  and  he  pressed  forward  as 
far  as  the  line  of  warders  permitted,  in  order  to  avail  him- 
seK  of  the  present  opportunity.  His  companion,  on  the 
contrary,  kept  pulling  him  backwards,  till  Walter  shook 
him  off  impatiently,  letting  his  rich  cloak  drop  carelessly 
from  one  shoulder.  Unbonneting  at  the  same  time,  he 
fixed  his  eager  gaze  on  the  queen's  approach,  with  a  mix- 
ture of  respectful  curiosity  and  modest  yet  ardent  admira- 
tion, which  suited  so  well  with  his  fine  features,  that  the 
warders,  struck  with  his  rich  attire  and  noble  countenance, 
suffered  him  to  approach  the  ground  over  which  the  queen 
was  to  pass,  somewhat  closer  than  was  permitted  to  ordi- 
nary spectators.  Thus  the  adventurous  youth  stood  full 
in  Elizabeth's  eye  —  an  eye  never  indifferent  to  the  admi- 
ration which  she  deservedly  excited  among  her  subjects. 
Accordingly,  she  fixed  her  keen  glance  on  the  youth,  as 
she  approached  the  place  where  he  stood,  with  a  look  in 
which  surprise  at  his  boldness  seemed  to  be  unmingled 
with  resentment,  when  a  trifling  accident  happened  which 
attracted  her  attention  toward  him  yet  more  strongly. 


■^  312  9«- 

The  night  had  been  rainy,  and  just  where  the  young 
gentleman  stood,  a  small  quantity  of  mud  interrupted  the 
queen's  passage.  As  she  hesitated  to  pass  on,  the  gallant 
Raleigh,  throwing  his  cloak  from  his  shoulders,  laid  it  on 
the  miry  spot,  so  as  to  insure  her  stepping  over  it  dry- 
shod.  Elizabeth  looked  at  the  young  man,  who  accom- 
panied this  act  of  devoted  courtesy  with  a  profound 
reverence,  and  a  blush  that  overspread  his  whole  coun- 
tenance. The  queen  was  confused,  and  blushed  in  her 
turn,  nodded  her  head,  hastily  passed  on,  and  embarked 
in  her  barge  without  saying  a  word. 

"  Come  along,  Raleigh,"  said  Blount,  "  your  gay  cloak 
will  need  the  brush  to-day,  I  wot." 

"  This  cloak,"  said  the  youth,  picking  it  up  and  fold- 
ing it,  "shall  never  be  brushed  while  in  my  possession." 

"  And  that  will  not  be  long,  if  you  learn  not  a  little 
more  economy." 

This  discourse  was  interrupted  by  one  of  the  band 
of  pensioners.  "  I  was  sent,"  said  he,  after  looking  at 
them  attentively,  "  to  a  gentleman  who  hath  no  cloak,  or 
a  muddy  one.  You,  sir,  I  think,"  addressing  the  young 
cavalier,  "  are  the  man  ;  you  will  please  to  follow  me." 

"  He  is  in  attendance  on  me,"  said  Blount,  "  on  me, 
the  noble  Earl  of  Sussex's  master  of  horse." 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  to  that,"  answered  the  mes- 
senger ;  "  my  orders  are  directly  from  her  Majesty,  and 
concern  this  gentleman  only." 


-^  313  8«- 

So  saying,  he  walked  away,  followed  by  Walter,  leav- 
ing the  other  behind,  Blount's  eyes  almost  starting  from 
his  head  with  the  excess  of  his  astonishment.  At  length 
he  gave  vent  to  it  in  an  exclamation  —  "Who  would 
have  thought  this  1  "  And  shaking  his  head  with  a 
mysterious  air,  he  walked  to  his  own  boat,  embarked, 
and  returned  to  Deptford. 

The  young  cavalier  was,  in  the  meanwhile,  guided  to 
the  waterside  by  the  pensioner,  who  showed  him  con- 
siderable respect ;  a  circumstance  which,  to  persons  in  his 
situation,  may  be  considered  as  an  event  of  no  small  con- 
sequence. He  ushered  him  into  one  of  the  wherries 
which  lay  ready  to  attend  the  queen's  barge,  which  was 
already  proceeding  up  the  river. 

The  two  rowers  used  their  oars  with  such  expedition 
at  the  signal  of  the  gentleman  pensioner,  that  they  very 
soon  brought  their  little  skiff  under  the  stern  of  the 
queen's  boat,  where  she  sat  beneath  an  awning,  attended 
by  two  or  three  ladies,  and  the  nobles  of  her  household. 
She  looked  more  than  once  at  the  wherry  in  which  the 
young  gallant  was  seated,  spoke  to  those  around  her,  and 
seemed  to  laugh.  At  length  one  of  the  attendants,  by 
the  queen's  order  apparently,  made  a  sign  for  the  wherry 
to  come  alongside,  and  the  young  man  was  desired  to 
step  from  his  own  skiff  into  the  queen's  barge,  which  he 
performed  with  graceful  agility,  and  was  brought  to  the 
queen's  presence,  the  wherry  at  the  same  time  dropping 


^  314  9«- 

into  the  rear.  The  muddied  cloak  still  hung  upon  his 
arm,  and  formed  the  natural  topic  with  which  the  queen 
introduced  the  conversation. 

"  You  have  this  day  spoiled  a  gay  mantle  in  our  ser- 
vice, young  man.  We  thank  you  for  your  service,  though 
the  manner  of  offering  it  was  unusual,  and  somewhat 
bold." 

"  In  a  sovereign's  need,"  answered  the  youth,  "  it  is 
each  liegeman's  duty  to  be  bold." 

"  That  was  well  said,  my  lord,"  said  the  queen,  turn- 
ing to  a  grave  person  who  sat  by  her,  who  answered 
with  something  of  a  mumbled  assent.  "  Well,  young 
man,  your  gallantry  shall  not  go  unrewarded.  Go  to  the 
wardrobe  keeper,  and  he  shall  have  orders  to  supply  the 
suit  which  you  have  cast  away  in  our  service.  Thou  shalt 
have  a  suit,  and  that  of  the  newest  cut,  I  promise  thee, 
on  the  word  of  a  princess." 

"  May  it  please  your  Grace,"  said  Walter,  "  it  is  not 
for  so  humble  a  servant  of  your  Majesty  to  measure  out 
your  bounties ;  but  if  it  became  me  to  choose  —  " 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  gold,  I  warrant,"  said  the  queen, 
interrupting  him;  "fie,  young  man!  I  take  shame  to 
say,  that,  in  our  capital,  such  and  so  various  are  the 
means  of  thriftless  folly,  that  to  give  gold  to  youth  is 
giving  fuel  to  fire.  Yet  thou  mayest  be  poor,"  she  added, 
"  or  thy  parents  may  be ;  —  it  shall  be  gold,  if  thou  wilt, 
but  thou  shalt  answer  to  me  for  the  use  of  it." 


^  315  9^ 

Walter  waited  patiently  until  the  queen  had  done,  and 
then  modestly  assured  her,  that  gold  was  still  less  in  his 
wish  than  the  raiment  her  Majesty  had  before  offered. 

"How,  boy!"  said  the  queen,  "neither  gold  nor  rai- 
ment !     What  is  it  that  thou  wouldst  have  of  me  ?  " 

"  Only  permission,  madame  —  if  it  is  not  asking  too 
high  an  honor  —  permission  to  wear  the  cloak  which  did 
you  this  trifling  service." 

"  Permission  to  wear  thine  own  cloak,  thou  silly 
boy?"  said  the  queen. 

"  It  is  no  longer  mine,"  said  Walter ;  "  when  your 
Majesty's  foot  touched  it,  it  became  a  fit  mantle  for  a 
prince,  but  far  too  rich  a  one  for  its  former  owner." 

The  queen  again  blushed;  and  endeavored  to  cover, 
by  laughing,  a  slight  degree  of  not  unpleasing  surprise 
and  confusion. 

"  Heard  you  ever  the  like,  my  lords  ?  The  youth's 
head  is  turned  with  reading  romances  —  I  must  know 
something  of  him,  that  I  may  send  him  safe  to  his 
friends,  —  what  art  thou  ?  " 

"  A  gentleman  of  the  household  of  the  Earl  of  Sussex, 
so  please  your  grace,  sent  hither  with  his  master  of  horse, 
upon  a  message  to  your  majesty. 

In  a  moment  the  gracious  expression  which  Eliza- 
beth's face  had  hitherto  maintained,  gave  way  to  an 
expression  of  haughtiness  and  severity. 

"  My  Lord  of  Sussex,"  she  said,  "  has  taught  us  how 


^  316  8«- 

to  regard  his  messages,  by  the  value  he  places  upon  ours. 
We  sent  but  this  morning  our  own  physician,  understand- 
ing his  lordship's  illness  to  be  more  dangerous  than  we 
had  before  apprehended.  There  is  at  no  court  in  Europe 
a  man  more  skilled  in  this  most  useful  science  than  Doc- 
tor Masters,  and  he  went  at  our  orders  to  my  Lord  of 
Sussex.  Nevertheless,  he  found  the  gate  of  Say's  Court 
defended  by  men  with  culverins,  as  if  it  had  been  on  the 
borders  of  Scotland,  not  in  the  vicinity  of  our  court ;  and 
when  he  demanded  admittance  in  our  name,  it  was  stub- 
bornly refused.  For  this  slight  of  kindness,  which  had 
but  too  much  of  condescension  in  it,  we  will  receive, 
at  present  at  least,  no  excuse ;  and  some  such  we  sup- 
pose to  have  been  the  purport  of  my  Lord  of  Sussex's 
message." 

This  was  uttered  in  a  tone,  and  with  a  gesture,  which 
made  Lord  Sussex's  friends,  who  were  within  hearing, 
tremble.  He  to  whom  the  speech  was  addressed,  how- 
ever, trembled  not ;  but  with  great  deference  and  humility, 
as  soon  as  the  queen's  passion  gave  him  an  opportunity, 
he  replied,  '^  So  please  your  Most  Gracious  Majesty,  I 
was  charged  with  no  apology  from  the  Earl  of  Sussex." 

"  With  what  were  you  then  charged,  sir  ? "  said  the 
queen,  with  the  impetuosity  which,  amid  nobler  qualities, 
strongly  marked  her  character ;  "  was  it  with  a  justifica- 
tion, or  with  a  defence  ?  " 

"  Madame,"  said  the  young  man,  ''  my  Lord  of  Sussex 


-^  317  6<- 

knew  the  offence  approached  toward  treason,  and  could 
think  of  nothing  save  of  securing  the  offender,  and  plac- 
ing him  in  your  Majesty's  hands,  and  at  your  mercy. 
The  noble  earl  was  fast  asleep  when  your  Majesty's  most 
gracious  message  reached  him,  a  potion  having  been 
administered  to  that  purpose  by  his  physician;  and  his 
Lordship  knew  not  of  the  ungracious  repulse  your  Majesty's 
royal  and  most  comfortable  message  had  received,  until 
after  he  awoke  this  morning." 

"  And  which  of  his  domestics,  then,  presumed  to 
reject  my  message,  without  even  admitting  my  own 
physician  to  the  presence  of  him  whom  I  sent  him  to 
attend  ? "  said  the  queen,  much  surprised. 

"  The  offender,  madame,  is  before  you,"  replied  Walter, 
bowing  very  low ;  "  the  full  and  sole  blame  is  mine  ;  and 
my  lord  has  most  justly  sent  me  to  abide  the  consequences 
of  my  fault,  of  which  he  is  as  innocent  as  a  sleeping 
man's  dreams  can  be  of  a  waking  man's  actions." 

"  What !  was  it  thou,  —  thou  thyself,  that  repelled  my 
messenger  and  my  physician  from  Say's  Court?"  said 
the  queen.  "What  could  occasion  such  boldness  in  one 
who  seems  devoted  —  that  is,  whose  exterior  bearing 
shows  devotion  —  to  his  sovereign  ?  " 

"  Madame,"  said  the  youth,  "  we  say  in  our  country, 
that  the  physician  is  for  the  time  the  sovereign  of  his 
patient.  Now,  my  noble  master  was  then  under  domin- 
ion of   a  physician,  who  had  issued  his  commands  that 


-*6  318  8«- 

his  patient  should  not  that  night  be  disturbed,  on  the 
very  peril  of  his  life." 

^  "  Thy  master  hath  trusted  some  false  physician/'  said 
the  queen. 

"  I  know  not,  madame,  but  by  the  fact  that  he  is  now 
awakened  much  refreshed  and  strengthened,  from  the 
only  sleep  he  hath  had  for  many  hours." 

The  nobles  looked  at  each  other,  but  more  with  the 
purpose  to  see  what  each  thought  of  this  news,  than  to 
exchange  any  remarks  on  what  had  happened.  The 
queen  answered  hastily,  and  without  affecting  to  disguise 
her  satisfaction  :  "  By  my  word,  1  am  glad  he  is  better. 
But  thou  wert  over  bold  to  deny  the  access  of  my  Doctor 
Masters.  Know'st  thou  not  that  in  the  multitude  of 
counsel  there  is  safety  ?  '* 

"  Ay,  madame,"  said  Walter,  "but  I  have  heard  learned 
men  say,  that  the  safety  spoken  of  is  for  the  physicians, 
not  for  the  patient." 

"  By  my  faith,  child,  thou  hast  pushed  me  home," 
said  the  queen,  laughing ;  "  for  my  Hebrew  learning 
does  not  come  quite  at  a  call.  But  for  thee,  young  man, 
what  is  thy  name  and  birth?" 

"Raleigh  is  my  name,  most  gracious  queen,  the 
youngest  son  of  a  large  but  honorable  family  of  Devon- 
shire." 

"  Raleigh  ?  "  said  Elizabeth,  after  a  moment's  recollec- 
tion, "have  we  not  heard  of  your  service  in  Ireland?" 


-«  319  B^ 

"  I  have  been  so  fortunate  as  to  do  some  service  there, 
madame,"  replied  Raleigh,  "  scarce  however  of  consequence 
sufficient  to  reach  your  Grace's  ears." 

"  They  hear  farther  than  you  think  of,"  said  the  queen, 
graciously,  "  and  have  heard  of  a  youth  who  defended  a 
ford  in  Shannon  against  a  whole  band  of  rebels,  until 
the  stream  ran  purple  with  their  blood  and  his  own." 

^^  Some  blood  I  may^^have  lost,"  said  the  youth,  look- 
ing down,  "  but  it  was  where  my  best  is  due  ;  and  that 
is  in  your  Majesty's  service." 

The  queen  paused,  and  then  said  hastily,  "  You  are  very 
young  to  have  fought  so  well,  and  to  speak  so  well.  But 
you  must  not  escape  your  penance  for  turning  back  Mas- 
ters —  the  poor  man  hath  caught  cold  on  the  river  ;  for 
our  order  reached  him  when  he  was  just  returning  from 
certain  visits  in  London,  and  he  held  it  matter  of  loyalty 
and  conscience  instantly  to  set  forth  again.  So  hark  ye, 
Master  Raleigh,  see  thou  fail  not  to  wear  thy  muddy 
cloak,  in  token  of  penitence,  till  our  pleasure  be  farther 
known.  And  here,"  she  added,  giving  him  a  jewel  of 
gold,  in  the  form  of  a  chessman,  "  I  give  thee  this  to 
wear  at  the  collar." 

Raleigh,  to  whom  nature  had  taught  intuitively,  as  it 
were,  those  courtly  arts  which  many  scarce  acquire  from 
long  experience,  knelt,  and,  as  he  took  from  her  hand  the 
jewel,  kissed  the  fingers  which  gave  it. 

—  Sir  Walter  Scott. 


-«  320  B«- 
THE    PIED   PIPER   OF   HAMELIN 

Hamelin  Town's  in  Brunswick, 

By  famous  Hanover  city ; 
The  river  Weser,  deep  and  wide, 
Washes  its  wall  on  the  southern  side ; 
A  pleasanter  spot  you  never  spied ; 

But,  when  begins  my  ditty. 
Almost  five  hundred  years  ago, 
To  see  the  townsfolk  suffer  so 

From  vermin,  was  a  pity. 

Rats! 
They  fought  the  dogs  and  killed  the  cats. 

And  bit  the  babies  in  the  cradles, 
And  ate  the  cheeses  out  of  the  vats, 

And  licked  the  soup  from  the  cooks'  own  ladles. 
Split  open  the  kegs  of  salted  sprats. 
Made  nests  inside  men's  Sunday  hats. 
And  even  spoiled  the  women's  chats. 
By  drowning  their  speaking 
With  shrieking  and  squeaking 
In  fifty  different  sharps  and  flats. 

At  last  the  people  in  a  body 

To  the  Town  Hall  came  flocking : 
"  'Tis  clear,"  cried  they,  "our  Mayor's  a  noddy; 
And  as  for  our  Corporation  —  shocking 


^  321  8«- 

To  think  we  buy  gowns  lined  with  ermine 
For  dolts  that  can't  or  wont  determine 
What's  best  to  rid  us  of  our  vermin ! 
You  hope,  because  you're  old  and  obese, 
To  find  in  the  furry  civic  robe  ease. 
Rouse  up,  Sirs !     Give  your  brains  a  racking 
To  find  the  remedy  we're  lacking, 
Or,  sure  as  fate,  we'll  send  you  packing !  " 
At  this  the  Mayor  and  Corporation 
Quaked  with  a  mighty  consternation. 

An  hour  they  sat  in  council, 

At  length  the  Mayor  broke  silence : 
"  For  a  guilder  I'd  my  ermine  gown  sell ; 

I  wish  I  were  a  mile  hence ! 
It's  easy  to  bid  one  rack  one's  brain  — 
I'm  sure  my  poor  head  aches  again, 
I've  scratched  it  so,  and  all  in  vain, 
Oh  for  a  trap,  a  trap,  a  trap !  " 
Just  as  he  said  this,  what  should  hap 
At  the  chamber  door  but  a  gentle  tap  ? 
"Bless  us,"  cried  the  Mayor,  "  what's  that? 
Anything  like  the  sound  of  a  rat 
Makes  my  heart  go  pit-a-pat !" 

"  Come  in  !  "  the  Mayor  cried,  looking  bigger 
And  in  did  come  the  strangest  figure ! 


^  322  B«- 

His  queer  long  coat  from  heel  to  head 

Was  half  of  yellow,  and  half  of  red ; 

And  he  himself  was  tall  and  thin, 

With  sharp  blue  eyes,  each  like  a  pin, 

And  light  loose  hair,  yet  swarthy  skin, 

No  tuft  on  cheek,  nor  beard  on  chin, 

But  lips  where  smiles  went  out  and  in ; 

There  was  no  guessing  his  kith  and  kin : 

And  nobody  could  enough  admire 

The  tall  man  and  his  quaint  attire. 

Quoth  one,  "  It's  as  if  my  great-grandsire, 

Starting  up  at  the  Trump  of  Doom's  tone, 

Had  walked  this  way  from  his  painted  tombstone  !  " 

He  advanced  to  the  council-table : 

And,  "  Please  your  honors,"  said  he,  "  I'm  able. 

By  means  of  a  secret  charm,  to  draw 

All  creatures  living  beneath  the  sun, 

That  creep,  or  swim,  or  fly,  or  run. 
After  me  so  as  you  never  saw ! 
And  I  chiefly  use  my  charm 
On  creatures  that  do  people  harm, 
The  mole,  the  toad,  the  newt,  the  viper ; 
And  people  call  me  the  Pied  Piper. 
Yet,"  said  he,  "  poor  piper  as  I  am. 
In  Tartary  I  freed  the  Cham, 

Last  June,  from  his  huge  swarm  of  gnats ; 


^  323  B^ 

I  eased  in  Asia  the  Nizam 

Of  a  monstrous  brood  of  vampire-bats : 
And  as  for  what  your  brain  bewilders, 

If  I  can  rid  your  town  of  rats 
Will  you  give  me  a  thousand  guilders  ?  " 
"  One  ?     Fifty  thousand  !  "  was  the  exclamation 
Of  the  astonished  Mayor  and  Corporation. 

Into  the  street  the  Piper  stept, 

Smiling  first  a  little  smile, 
As  if  he  knew  what  magic  slept 

In  his  quiet  pipe  the  while ; 
Then,  like  a  musical  adept, 
To  blow  the  pipe  his  lips  he  wrinkled, 
And  green  and  blue  his  sharp  eyes  twinkled, 
Like  a  candle-flame  where  salt  is  sprinkled ; 
And  ere  three  shrill  notes  the  pipe  had  uttered, 
You  heard  as  if  an  army  muttered  ; 
And  the  muttering  grew^  to  a  grumbling ; 
And  the  grumbling  grew  to  a  mighty  rumbling ; 
And  out  of  the  houses  the  rats  came  tumbling  — 
Great  rats,  small  rats,  lean  rats,  brawny  rats. 
Brown  rats,  black  rats,  gray  rats,  tawny  rats. 
Grave  old  plodders,  gay  young  friskers, 

Fathers,  mothers,  uncles,  cousins. 
Cocking  tails,  and  pricking  whiskers. 

Families  by  tens  and  dozens. 


^  324  8*- 

Brothers,  sisters,  husbands,  wives  — 
Followed  the  Piper  for  their  lives. 
From  street  to  street  he  piped,  advancing. 
And  step  for  step  they  followed  dancing. 
Until  they  came  to  the  river  Weser, 

Wherein  all  plunged  and  perished  !  — 
Save  one,  who,  stout  as  Julius  Caesar, 
Swam  across,  and  lived  to  carry 

(As  he,  the  manuscript  he  cherished) 
To  Rat-land  home  his  commentary : 
Which  was,  "  At  the  first  shrill  notes  of  the  pipe, 
I  heard  a  sound  as  of  scraping  tripe. 
And  putting  apples,  wondrous  ripe. 
Into  a  cider-press's  gripe ; 
And  a  moving  away  of  pickle-tub-boards. 
And  a  leaving  ajar  of  conserve-cupboards. 
And  a  drawing  the  corks  of  train-oil-flasks, 
And  a  breaking  the  hoops  of  butter-casks ; 
And  it  seemed  as  if  a  voice 

(Sweeter  far  than  by  harp  or  by  psaltery 
Is  breathed)  called  out,  '  Oh  rats,  rejoice  ! 

The  world  has  grown  to  one  vast  drysaltery ! 
So  munch  on,  crunch  on,  take  your  nuncheon. 
Breakfast,  supper,  dinner,  luncheon  !  * 
And  just  as  a  bulky  sugar-puncheon, 
All  ready  staved,  like  a  great  sun  shone 
Glorious,  scarce  an  inch  before  me, 


^  325  ad- 
just as  methought  it  said,  '  Come,  bore  me  ! ' 
—  I  found  the  Weser  rolling  o'er  me." 

You  should  have  heard  the  Hamelin  people 

Ringing  the  bells  till  they  rocked  the  steeple. 

"  Go,"  cried  the  Mayor,  "  and  get  long  poles, 

Poke  out  the  nests,  and  block  up  the  holes ! 

Consult  with  carpenters  and  builders, 

And  leave  in  our  town  not  even  a  trace 

Of  the  rats  !  "     When  suddenly,  up  the  face 

Of  the  Piper  perked  in  the  market-place. 

With  a,  "  First,  if  you  please,  my  thousand  guilders  ! 

A  thousand  guilders  !     The  Mayor  looked  blue. 

So  did  the  Corporation  too. 

For  council  dinners  made  rare  havoc 

With  Claret,  Moselle,  Vin-de-Grave,  Hock ; 

And  half  the  money  would  replenish 

Their  cellar's  biggest  butt  with  Rhenish. 

To  pay  this  sum  to  a  wandering  fellow 

With  a  gypsy  coat  of  red  and  yellow ! 

"Besides,"  quoth  the  Mayor,  with  a  knowing  wink, 

"  Our  business  was  done  at  the  river's  brink ; 

We  saw  with  our  eyes  the  vermin  sink. 

And  what's  dead  can't  come  to  life,  I  think. 

So,  friend,  we're  not  the  folks  to  shrink 

From  the  duty  of  giving  you  something  to  drink. 


^  326  9<- 

And  a  matter  of  money  to  put  in  your  poke ; 
But,  as  for  the  guilders,  what  we  spoke 
Of  them,  as  you  very  well  know,  was  in  joke. 
Beside,  our  losses  have  made  us  thrifty : 
A  thousand  guilders  !     Come,  take  fifty  !  " 

The  Piper's  face  fell,  and  he  cried, 

''  No  trifling  !     I  can't  wait,  beside 

I've  promised  to  visit  by  dinner-time 

Bagdat,  and  accept  the  prime 

Of  the  Head-Cook's  pottage,  all  he's  rich  in. 

For  having  left,  in  the  Caliph's  kitchen. 

Of  a  nest  of  scorpions  no  survivor. 

With  him  I  proved  no  bargain-driver. 

With  you,  don't  think  I'll  bate  a  stiver ! 

And  folks  who  put  me  in  a  passion 

May  find  me  pipe  to  another  fashion." 

"  How,"  cried  the  Mayor,  "  d'ye  think  I'll  brook 

Being  worse  treated  than  a  cook  ? 

Insulted  by  a  lazy  ribald 

With  idle  pipe  and  vesture  piebald  ? 

You  threaten  us,  fellow  ?     Do  your  worst. 

Blow  your  pipe  there  till  you  burst ! " 

Once  more  he  stept  into  the  street, 
And  to  his  lips  again 


^  327  B«- 

Laid  his  long  pipe  of  smooth,  straight  cane ; 
And  ere  he  blew  three  notes  (such  sweet 
Soft  notes  as  yet  musician's  cunning 

Never  gave  the  enraptured  air) 
There  was  a  rustling  that  seemed  like  a  bustling 
Of  merry  crowds  justling  at  pitching  and  hustling, 
Small  feet  were  pattering,  wooden  shoes  clattering, 
Little  hands  clapping  and  little  tongues  chattering, 
And,  like  fowls  in  a  farm-yard  when  barley  is  scattering. 
Out  came  the  children  running : 
All  the  little  boys  and  girls. 
With  rosy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curls. 
And  sparkling  eyes  and  teeth  like  pearls. 
Tripping  and  skipping,  ran  merrily  after 
The  wonderful  music  with  shouting  and  laughter. 

The  Mayor  was  dumb,  and  the  Council  stood 

As  if  they  were  changed  into  blocks  of  wood. 

Unable  to  move  a  step,  or  cry 

To  the  children  merrily  skipping  by,  — 

And  could  only  follow  with  the  eye 

That  joyous  crowd  at  the  Piper's  back. 

But  how  the  Mayor  was  on  the  rack, 

And  the  wretched  Council's  bosoms  beat. 

As  the  Piper  turned  from  the  High  Street 

To  where  the  Weser  rolled  its  waters 

Right  in  the  way  of  their  sons  and  daughters ! 


^  328  9«- 

However  he  turned  from  South  to  West, 

And  to  Koppelberg  Hill  his  steps  addressed, 

And  after  him  the  children  pressed ; 

Great  was  the  joy  in  every  breast. 

"  He  never  can  cross  that  mighty  top ! 

He's  forced  to  let  the  piping  drop, 

And  we  shall  see  our  children  stop !  " 

When,  lo,  as  they  reached  the  mountain's  side, 

A  wondrous  portal  opened  wide. 

As  if  a  cavern  was  suddenly  hollowed ; 

And  the  Piper  advanced  and  the  children  followed. 

And  when  all  were  in  to  the  very  last, 

The  door  in  the  mountain  side  shut  fast. 

Did  I  say,  all  ?     No  !     One  was  lame. 

And  could  not  dance  the  whole  of  the  way ; 
And  in  after  years,  if  you  would  blame 

His  sadness,  he  was  used  to  say,  — 
"  It's  dull  in  our  town  since  my  playmates  left ! 
I  can't  forget  that  I'm  bereft 
Of  all  the  pleasant  sights  they  see, 
Which  the  Piper  also  promised  me. 
For  he  led  us,  he  said,  to  a  joyous  land. 
Joining  the  town  and  just  at  hand. 
Where  waters  gushed  and  fruit-trees  grew. 
And  flowers  put  forth  a  fairer  hue. 
And  everything  was  strange  and  new ; 
The  sparrows  were  brighter  than  peacocks  here. 


-«  329  »- 

And  their  dogs  outran  our  fallow-deer, 

And  honey-bees  had  lost  their  stings, 

And  horses  were  born  with  eagles'  wings ; 

And  just  as  I  became  assured 

My  lame  foot  would  be  speedily  cured, 

The  music  stopped  and  I  stood  still, 

And  found  myself  outside  the  hill, 

Left  alone  against  my  will, 

To  go  now  limping  as  before. 

And  never  hear  of  that  country  more  !  " 

The  Mayor  sent  East,  West,  North,  and  South, 
To  offer  the  Piper  by  word  of  mouth. 

Wherever  it  was  men's  lot  to  find  him, 
Silver  and  gold  to  his  heart's  content, 
If  he'd  only  return  the  way  he  went. 

And  bring  the  children  behind  him. 
But  when  they  saw  'twas  a  lost  endeavor. 
And  Piper  and  dancers  were  gone  forever. 
They  made  a  decree  that  lawyers  never 

Should  think  their  records  dated  duly, 
If,  after  the  day  of  the  month  and  year. 
These  words  did  not  as  well  appear, 
"  And  so  long  after  what  happened  here 

On  the  twenty-second  of  July, 
Thirteen  hundred  and  seventy-six  :  " 
And  the  better  in  memory  to  fix 


-^  330  8«- 

The  place  of  the  children's  last  retreat, 
They  called  it,  the  Pied  Piper's  Street  — 
Where  any  one  playing  on  pipe  or  tabor, 
Was  sure  for  the  future  to  lose  his  labor. 
Nor  suffered  they  hostelry  or  tavern 

To  shock  with  mirth  a  street  so  solemn ; 
But  opposite  the  place  of  the  cavern 

They  wrote  the  story  on  a  column, 
And  on  the  great  church-window  painted 
The  same,  to  make  the  world  acquainted 
How  their  children  were  stolen  away ; 
And  there  it  stands  to  this  very  day. 
And  I  must  not  omit  to  say 
That  in  Transylvania  there's  a  tribe 
Of  alien  people  who  ascribe 
The  outlandish  ways  and  dress 
On  which  their  neighbors  lay  such  stress. 
To  their  fathers  and  mothers  having  risen 
Out  of  some  subterraneous  prison 
Into  which  they  were  trepanned 
Long  ago  in  a  mighty  band, 
Out  of  Hamelin  town  in  Brunswick  land. 
But  how,  or  why,  they  don't  understand. 


Robert  Brownino. 


^  331  8«- 


RIP    VAN    WINKLE 

Part  I 

daunted  Kaatskill  termagant  popularity 

adherent  barometers  precipice  incessantly 

aversion  pestilent  impending         amphitheatre 

equipped  Stuyvesant  unconquerable  Appalachian 

Whoever  has  made  a  voyage  up  the  Hudson  River 
must  remember  the  Kaatskill  Mountains.  They  are  a 
branch  of  the  great  Appalachian  family,  and  are  seen 
away  to  the  west  of  the  river,  swelling  up  to  a  noble 
height,  and  lording  it  over  the  surrounding  country. 
Every  change  of  season,  every  change  of  weather,  indeed, 
every  hour  of  the  day  produces  some  change  in  the  hues 
and  shapes  of  these  mountains ;  and  they  are  regarded  by 
all  the  good  wives,  far  and  near,  as  perfect  barometers. 

When  the  weather  is  fair  and  settled,  they  are  clothed 
in  blue  and  purple,  and  print  their  bold  outlines  on  the 
clear  evening  sky ;  but  sometimes,  when  the  rest  of  the 
landscape  is  cloudless,  they  will  gather  a  hood  of  gray 
vapors  about  their  summits,  which,  in  the  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun,  will  glow  and  light  up  like  a  crown  of  glory. 

At  the  foot  of  these  fairy  mountains,  the  voyager  may 
have  descried  the  light  smoke  curling  up  from  a  village, 
whose  shingle  roofs  gleam  among  the  trees,  just  where 
the  blue  tints  of  the  upland  melt  away  into  the  fresh 


^  332  8«- 

green  of  the  nearer  landscape.  It  is  a  little  village  of 
great  antiquity,  having  been  founded  by  some  of  the 
Dutch  colonists  in  the  early  times  of  the  province,  just 
about  the  beginning  of  the  government  of  the  good  Peter 
Stuyvesant,  and  there  were  some  of  the  houses  of  the 
original  settlers  standing  within  a  few  years,  built  of 
small  yellow  bricks,  brought  from  Holland,  having  lat- 
ticed windows,  and  gable  fronts,  surmounted  with 
weathercocks. 

In  that  same  village,  and  in  one  of  these  very  houses 
(which  to  tell  the  truth,  was  sadly  time-worn  and  weather- 
beaten),  there  lived,  many  years  since,  while  the  country 
was  still  a  province  of  Great  Britain,  a  simple,  good- 
natured  fellow,  of  the  name  of  Rip  Van  Winkle.  He 
was  a  descendant  of  the  Van  Winkles  who  figured  so 
gallantly  in  the  days  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  and  accom- 
panied him  to  the  siege  of  Fort  Christina.  He  inherited, 
however,  but  little  of  the  character  of  these  ancestors. 

I  have  observed  that  he  was  a  simple,  good-natured 
man;  he  was,  moreover,  a  kind  neighbor,  and  an  obedi- 
ent, henpecked  husband.  Indeed,  to  the  latter  circum- 
stance might  be  owing  that  meekness  of  spirit  which 
gained  him  such  universal  popularity ;  for  those  men  are 
apt  to  be  conciliating  abroad  who  are  under  the  discipline 
of  shrews  at  home.  Their  tempers,  doubtless,  are  ren- 
dered malleable  in  the  fiery  furnace  of  domestic  tribulation, 
and  a  curtain-lecture  is  worth  all  the  sermons  in  the  world 


-^  333  8«- 

for  teaching  the  virtues  of  patience  and  long-suffering. 
A  termagant  wife  may,  therefore,  in  some  respects  be 
considered  a  blessing ;  and  if  so,  Rip  Van  Winkle  was 
thrice  blessed. 

Certain  it  is  that  he  was  a  great  favorite  among  all 
the  good  wives  of  the  village,  who,  as  usual  with  the 
amiable  sex,  took  his  part  in  all  family  squabbles,  and 
never  failed,  whenever  they  talked  those  matters  over  in 
their  evening  gossipings,  to  lay  all  the  blame  on  Dame 
Van  Winkle.  The  children  of  the  village,  too,  would 
shout  with  joy  whenever  he  approached.  He  assisted  at 
their  sports,  made  their  playthings,  taught  them  to  fly 
kites  and  shoot  marbles,  and  told  them  stories  of  ghosts, 
witches,  and  Indians.  Whenever  he  went  dodging 
about  the  village  he  was  surrounded  by  a  troop  of 
them  hanging  on  his  skirts,  clambering  on  his  back,  and 
playing  a  thousand  tricks  on  him  ;  and  not  a  dog  would 
bark  at  him  throughout  the  neighborhood. 

The  great  error  in  Rip's  composition  was  an  uncon- 
querable aversion  to  all  kinds  of  profitable  labor.  It 
could  not  be  from  the  w^ant  of  perseverance ;  for  he 
would  sit  on  a  wet  rock,  with  a  rod  as  long  and  heavy 
as  a  Tartar's  lance,  and  fish  all  day  without  a  murmur, 
even  though  he  should  not  be  encouraged  by  a  single 
nibble.  He  would  carry  a  fowling-piece  on  his  shoulder 
for  hours  together,  trudging  through  the  woods  and 
swamps,  and  up   hill   and   down   dale,  to   shoot   a  few 


-^  334'8«- 

squirrels  or  wild  pigeons.  He  would  never  refuse  to 
assist  a  neighbor  even  in  the  roughest  toil,  and  was  a 
foremost  man  in  all  country  frolics  for  husking  Indian 
corn  or  building  stone  fences ;  the  women  of  the  village, 
too,  used  to  employ  him  to  run  their  errands  and  to  do 
such  little  odd  jobs  as  their  less  obliging  husbands  would 
not  do  for  them.  In  a  word,  Rip  was  ready  to  attend  to 
anybody's  business  but  his  own ;  but  as  to  doing  family 
duty  and  keeping  his  farm  in  order,  he  found  it  im- 
possible. 

In  fact,  he  declared  it  was  of  no  use  to  work  on  his 
farm ;  it  was  the  most  pestilent  little  piece  of  ground  in 
the  whole  country;  everything  about  it  went  wrong,  and 
would  go  wrong  in  spite  of  him.  His  fences  were  con- 
tinually falling  to  pieces ;  his  cow  would  either  go  astray, 
or  get  among  the  cabbages ;  weeds  were  sure  to  grow 
quicker  in  his  fields  than  anywhere  else ;  the  rain  always 
made  a  point  of  setting  in  just  as  he  had  some  outdoor 
work  to  do ;  so  that  though  his  estate  had  dwindled  away 
under  his  management,  acre  by  acre,  until  there  was  little 
more  left  than  a  little  patch  of  Indian  corn  and  potatoes, 
yet  it  was  the  worst-conditioned  farm  in  the  neighborhood. 

His  children,  too,  were  as  ragged  and  wild  as  if  they 
belonged  to  nobody.  His  son  Rip,  an  urchin  begotten  in 
his  own  likeness,  promised  to  inherit  the  habits,  with  the 
old  clothes,  of  his  father.  He  was  generally  seen  troop- 
ing like  a  colt  at  his  mother's  heels,  equipped  in  a  pair  of 


-^  335  8«- 

his  father's  cast-off  galligaskins,  which  he  had  much  ado 
to  hold  up  with  one  hand,  as  a  fine  lady  does  her  train  in 
bad  weather. 

Rip  Van  Winkle,  however,  was  one  of  those  happy 
mortals,  of  foolish,  well-oiled  dispositions,  who  take  the 
world  easy,  eat  white  bread  or  brown,  whichever  can  be 
got  with  least  thought  or  trouble,  and  had  rather  starve 
on  a  penny  than  work  for  a  pound.  If  left  to  himself, 
he  would  have  whistled  life  away  in  perfect  contentment ; 
but  his  wife  kept  continually  dinning  in  his  ears  about  his 
idleness,  his  carelessness,  and  the  ruin  he  was  bringing  on 
his  family.  Morning,  noon,  and  night,  her  tongue  was 
incessantly  going,  and  everything  he  said  or  did  was  sure 
to  produce  a  torrent  of  eloquence.  Rip  had  but  one  way 
of  replying  to  all  lectures  of  the  kind,  and  that,  by  fre- 
quent use,  had  grown  into  a  habit.  He  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  shook  his  head,  cast  up  his  eyes,  but  said  noth- 
ing. This,  however,  always  provoked  a  fresh  volley  from 
his  wife,  so  that  he  was  fain  to  draw  off  his  forces,  and 
take  to  the  outside  of  the  house. 

Rip's  sole  domestic  adherent  was  his  dog  Wolf,  who  was 
as  much  henpecked  as  his  master ;  for  Dame  Van  Winkle 
regarded  them  as  companions  in  idleness,  and  even  looked 
upon  Wolf  with  an  evil  eye,  as  the  cause  of  his  master's 
going  so  often  astray.  The  moment  Wolf  entered  the 
house  his  crest  fell,  his  tail  drooped  to  the  ground  or 
curled  between  his  legs,  he  sneaked  about  casting  many  a 


■^  336  8«- 

sidelong  glance  at  Dame  Van  Winkle,  and  at  the  least 
flourish  of  a  broomstick  or  ladle,  he  would  fly  to  the  door. 

Times  grew  worse  and  worse  with  Rip  Van  Winkle  as 
years  rolled  on ;  a  tart  temper  never  mellows  with  age,  and 
a  sharp  tongue  is  the  only  edged  tool  that  grows  keener 
with  constant  use.  For  a  long  while  he  used  to  console 
himself,  when  driven  from  home,  by  frequenting  a  kind 
of  club  of  the  sages,  philosophers,  and  other  idle  person- 
ages of  the  village,  which  held  its  sessions  on  a  bench 
before  a  small  inn.  Here  they  used  to  sit  in  the  shade 
through  a  long,  lazy,  summer  day,  talking  listlessly  over 
village  gossip,  or  telling  endless,  sleepy  stories  about 
nothing.  But  it  would  have  been  worth  any  statesman's 
money  to  have  heard  the  profound  discussions  which 
sometimes  took  place,  when  by  chance  an  old  newspaper 
fell  into  their  hands  from  some  passing  traveller.  How 
solemnly  they  would  listen  to  the  contents  as  drawled 
out  by  Derrick  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster,  a  dapper, 
learned,  little  man,  who  was  not  to  be  daunted  by  the  most 
gigantic  word  in  the  dictionary;  and  how  sagely  they 
would  deliberate  upon  public  events  some  months  after 
they  had  taken  place  ! 

From  even  this  stronghold  the  unlucky  Rip  was 
at  length  routed  by  his  wife,  who  would  suddenly  break 
in  upon  the  tranquillity  of  the  assemblage,  and  call  the 
members  all  to  naught. 

Poor  Rip  was  at  last  reduced  almost  to  despair ;  and 


-»6  337  B^ 

his  only  alternative,  to  escape  from  the  labor  of  the 
farm  and  the  clamor  of  his  wife,  was  to  take  gun  in 
hand,  and  stroll  away  into  the  woods.  Here  he  would 
sometimes  seat  himself  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  and  share 
the  contents  of  his  wallet  with  Wolf.  ^'Poor  Wolf," 
he  would  say,  "  thy  mistress  leads  thee  a  dog's  life  of  it ; 
but  never  mind,  my  lad,  whilst  I  live  thou  shalt  never 
want  a  friend  to  stand  by  thee  !  "  Wolf  would  wag  his 
tail,  looking  wistfully  in  his  master's  face,  and  if  dogs 
can  feel  pity,  1  verily  believe  he  felt  the  keenest  sympa- 
thy for  his  master. 

In  a  long  ramble  of  the  kind,  on  a  fine  autumnal 
day,  Rip  had  scrambled  to  one  of  the  highest  parts  of 
the  Kaatskill  Mountains.  He  was  after  his  favorite 
sport  of  squirrel-shooting,  and  the  still  solitudes  had 
echoed  and  reechoed  with  the  reports  of  his  gun.  Pan1> 
ing  and  fatigued,  he  threw  himself,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
on  a  green  knoll,  covered  with  mountain  herbage,  that 
crowned  the  brow  of  a  precipice.  From  an  opening 
between  the  trees  he  could  overlook  all  the  lower  coun- 
try for  many  a  mile  of  rich  woodland.  He  saw  at  a 
distance  the  lordly  Hudson,  far,  far  below  him,  moving 
on  in  its  silent  but  majestic  course,  with  the  reflection 
of  a  purple  cloud,  or  the  sail  of  a  lagging  bark  here  and 
there  sleeping  on  its  glassy  bosom,  and  at  last  losing 
itself  in  the  blue  highlands. 

On  the  other  side  he  looked  down  into  a  deep  moun- 


-^  338  S«- 

tain  glen,  wild,  lonely,  and  rugged,  the  bottom  filled 
with  fragments  from  the  overhanging  cliffs,  and  scarcely- 
lighted  by  the  reflected  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  For 
some  time  Rip  lay  musing  on  this  scene;  evening  was 
gradually  advancing;  the  mountains  began  to  throw 
their  long  blue  shadows  over  the  valleys  ;  he  saw  that  it 
would  be  dark  long  before  he  could  reach  the  village, 
and  he  heaved  a  heavy  sigh  when  he  thought  of  encoun- 
tering the  terrors  of  Dame  Van  Winkle. 

As  he  was  about  to  descend,  he  heard  a  voice  from  a 
distance  hallooing,  — ''  Rip  Van  Winkle  !  Rip  Van  Win- 
kle !  "  He  looked  around,  but  could  see  nothing  but  a 
crow  winging  its  solitary  flight  across  the  mountain. 
He  thought  his  fancy  must  have  deceived  him,  and 
turned  again  to  descend,  when  he  heard  the  same  cry 
ring  through  the  still  evening  air,  "  Rip  Van  Winkle ! 
Rip  Van  Winkle  ! "  ^-  at  the  same  time  Wolf  bristled 
up  his  back,  and  giving  a  low  growl  skulked  to  his 
master's  side,  looking  fearfully  down  into  the  glen. 
Rip  now  felt  a  vague  fear  stealing  over  him  ;  he  looked 
anxiously  in  the  same  direction,  and  perceived  a  strange 
figure  slowly  toiling  up  the  rocks,  and  bending  under 
the  weight  of  something  he  carried  on  his  back.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  any  human  being  in  this  lonely  and 
unfrequented  place,  but  supposing  it  to  be  some  one  of 
the  neighborhood  in  need  of  his  assistance,  he  hastened 
down  to  yield  it. 


^  339  6^ 

On  nearer  approach,  he  was  still  more  surprised  at 
the  singular  appearance  of  the  stranger.  He  was  a 
short,  square-built  old  fellow,  with  thick  bushy  hair,  and 
a  grizzled  beard.  His  dress  was  of  the  antique  Dutch 
fashion  —  a  cloth  jerkin  strapped  round  the  waist  — 
several  pairs  of  breeches,  the  outer  one  of  ample  volume, 
decorated  with  rows  of  buttons  down  the  sides,  and 
bunches  at  the  knees.  He  bore  on  his  shoulders  a  stout 
keg,  that  seemed  full  of  liquor,  and  made  signs  for  Rip 
to  approach  and  assist  him  with  the  load.  Though 
rather  shy  and  distrustful  of  this  new  acquaintance.  Rip 
complied  with  his  usual  alacrity ;  and  they  clambered  up 
a  narrow  gully,  apparently  the  dry  bed  of  a  mountain 
torrent.  As  they  ascended.  Rip  every  now  and  then 
heard  long  rolling  peals  like  distant  thunder  that 
seemed  to  issue  out  of  a  deep  ravine,  or  rather 
cleft  between  lofty  rocks,  toward  which  their  rugged 
path  conducted.  He  paused  for  an  instant,  but  suppos- 
ing it  to  be  the  mutterings  of  one  of  those  transient 
thunder-showers  which  often  take  place  in  the  mountain 
heights,  he  proceeded. 

Passing  through  the  ravine,  they  came  to  a  hollow, 
like  a  small  amphitheatre,  surrounded  by  precipices, 
over  the  brink  of  which  impending  trees  shot  their 
branches,  so  that  one  only  caught  glimpses  of  the  azure 
sky,  and  the  bright  evening  cloud.  During  the  whole 
time  Rip  and  his  companion  had  labored  on  in  silence ; 


^  340  8«- 

for  though  the  former  marvelled  greatly  what  could  be 
the  object  of  carrying  a  keg  of  liquor  up  this  wild 
mountain,  yet  there  was  something  strange  about  the 
unknown,  that  inspired  awe,  and  checked  familiarity. 

On  entering  the  amphitheatre,  new  objects  of  wonder 
presented  themselves.  On  a  level  spot  in  the  centre  was 
a  company  of  odd-looking  personages  playing  at  ninepins. 
They  were  dressed  in  quaint  fashion ;  some  wore  short 
doublets,  others  jerkins,  with  long  knives  in  their  belts, 
and  most  of  them  had  enormous  breeches,  of  similar  style 
with  that  of  the  guide's.  Their  visages,  too,  were  pe- 
culiar :  one  had  a  large  head,  broad  face,  and  small  pig- 
gish eyes ;  the  face  of  another  seemed  to  consist  entirely 
of  nose,  and  was  surmounted  by  a  white  sugar-loaf  hat, 
set  off  with  a  little  red  cock's  tail.  They  all  had  beards, 
of  various  shapes  and  colors.  There  was  one  who  seemed 
to  be  the  commander.  He  was  a  stout  old  gentleman, 
with  a  weatherbeaten  countenance ;  he  wore  a  laced 
doublet,  broad  belt,  high-crowned  hat  and  feather,  red 
stockings,  and  high-heeled  shoes,  with  roses  in  them. 

What  seemed  particularly  odd  to  Rip  was,  that  though 
these  men  were  evidently  amusing  themselves,  yet  they 
kept  the  most  mysterious  silence,  and  were  the  most 
melancholy  party  of  pleasure  he  had  ever  witnessed. 
Nothing  interrupted  the  stillness  of  the  scene  but  the  noise 
of  the  balls,  which,  whenever  they  were  rolled,  echoed 
along  the  mountains  like  rumbling  peals  of  thunder. 


-^  341  8^ 

As  Rip  and  his  companion  approached  them  they  sud- 
denly ceased  their  play,  and  stared  at  him  with  such  fixed 
statue-like  gaze,  and  such  strange  countenances,  that  his 
heart  turned  within  him  and  his  knees  smote  together. 
His  companion  now  emptied  the  contents  of  the  keg 
into  large  flagons,  and  made  signs  to  him  to  wait  upon 
the  company.  He  obeyed  with  fear  and  trembling ;  they 
drank  the  liquor  in  profound  silence,  and  then  returned 
to  their  game. 

By  degrees.  Rip's  awe  subsided.  He  even  ventured, 
when  no  eye  was  fixed  upon  him,  to  taste  the  beverage, 
which  he  found  had  much  of  the  flavor  of  excellent 
Hollands.  He  was  very  thirsty,  and  was  soon  tempted  to 
repeat  the  draught.  One  taste  provoked  another ;  and 
he  repeated  his  visits  to  the  flagon  so  often,  that  at 
length  his  senses  were  overpowered,  his  head  gradually 
declined,  and  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

Part  TI 


flagon  repetition 

populous  occurrences 

comely  perplexity 

partridge  assemblage 


hereditary 
chronicler 
counterpart 
significantly 


invariably 
incomprehensible 
rheumatism 
corroborated 


On  waking,  he  found  himself  on  the  green  knoll 
whence  he  had  first  seen  the  old  men  of  the  glen.  He 
rubbed  his  eyes  —  it  was  a  bright  sunny  morning.     The 


-«  342  8«- 

birds  were  hopping  and  twittering  among  the  bushes,  and 
the  eagle  was  wheeling  aloft,  and  breasting  the  pure, 
mountain  breeze.  "  Surely,"  thought  Rip,  "  I  have  not 
slept  here  all  night !  "  He  recalled  the  occurrences  before 
he  fell  asleep.  The  strange  man  with  the  keg  of  liquor 
—  the  mountain  ravine  —  the  wild  retreat  among  the 
rocks  —  the  woe-begone  party  at  ninepins  —  the  flagon  — 
"  Oh  !  that  flagon  !  that  wicked  flagon  !  "  thought  Rip  ; 
"  what  excuse  shall  I  make  to  Dame  Van  Winkle  ?  " 

He  looked  around  for  his  gun,  but  in  place  of  the 
clean,  well-oiled  fowling-piece,  he  found  an  old  firelock 
lying  by  him,  the  barrel  incrusted  with  rust,  the  lock 
falling  off,  and  the  stock  worm-eaten.  He  now  suspected 
that  the  grave  men  of  the  mountain  had  played  a  trick 
upon  him,  and  having  dosed  him  with  liquor,  had  robbed 
him  of  his  gun.  Wolf,  too,  had  disappeared,  but  he 
might  have  strayed  away  after  a  squirrel  or  partridge. 
He  whistled  for  him  and  shouted  his  name,  but  all  in  vain ; 
the  echoes  repeated  his  whistle  and  shout,  but  no  dog  was 
to  be  seen. 

He  determined  to  revisit  the  scene  of  the  last  evening's 
gambol,  and  if  he  met  with  any  of  the  party,  to  demand 
his  dog  and  gun.  As  he  rose  to  walk,  he  found  himself 
stiff  in  the  joints,  and  wanting  in  his  usual  activity. 
''  These  mountain  beds  do  not  agree  with  me,"  thought 
Rip,  "  and  if  this  frolic  should  lay  me  up  with  a  fit  of  the 
rheumatism,  I  shall  have  a  blessed  time  with  Dame  Van 


^  343  8«- 

Winkle."  With  some  difficulty  he  got  down  into  the 
glen ;  he  found  the  gully  up  which  he  and  his  companion 
had  ascended  the  preceding  evening ;  but  to  his  astonish- 
ment a  mountain  stream  was  now  foaming  down  it,  leap- 
ing from  rock  to  rock  and  filling  the  glen  with  babbling 
murmurs.  He,  however,  made  shift  to  scramble  up  its 
sides,  working  his  toilsome  way  through  thickets  of  birch, 
sassafras,  and  witch-hazel;  and  sometimes  tripped  up  or 
entangled  by  the  wild  grapevines  that  twisted  their  coils 
of  tendrils  from  tree  to  tree,  and  spread  a  kind  of  network 
in  his  path. 

At  length  he  reached  the  place  where  the  ravine  had 
opened  through  the  cliffs  to  the  amphitheatre ;  but  no 
traces  of  such  an  opening  remained.  The  rocks  presented 
a  high  wall,  over  which  the  torrent  came  tumbling  in  a 
sheet  of  feathery  foam,  and  fell  into  a  broad  deep  basin, 
black  from  the  shadows  of  the  surrounding  forest.  Here, 
then,  poor  Rip  w^as  brought  to  a  stand.  He  again  called 
and  w^histled  for  his  dog,  but  w^as  only  answered  by  the 
cawing  of  a  flock  of  idle  crows,  sporting  high  in  the  air 
about  a  dry  tree  that  overhung  a  sunny  precipice ;  and 
who,  secure  in  their  elevation,  seemed  to  look  down  and 
scoff  at  the  poor  man's  perplexities.  What  was  to  be 
done  ?  The  morning  was  passing  away,  and  Rip  felt 
famished  for  want  of  his  breakfast.  He  grieved  to  give 
up  his  dog  and  gun ;  he  dreaded  to  meet  his  wife ;  but  it 
would  not  do  to  starve  among  the  mountains.     He  shook 


-^  344  »- 

his  head,  shouldered  the  rusty  firelock,  and  with  a  heart 
full  of  trouble  and  anxiety,  turned  his  steps  homeward. 

As  he  approached  the  village,  he  met  a  number  of 
people,  but  none  whom  he  knew,  which  somewhat  sur- 
prised him,  for  he  had  thought  himself-  acquainted  with 
every  one  in  the  country  round.  Their  dress,  too,  was 
of  a  different  fashion  from  that  to  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed. They  all  stared  at  him  with  equal  marks  of 
surprise,  and  whenever  they  cast  their  eyes  upon  him, 
invariably  stroked  their  chins.  The  constant  repetition 
of  this  gesture  led  Rip  to  do  the  same,  when,  to  his 
astonishment,  he  found  his  beard  had  grown  a  foot 
long! 

He  had  now  entered  the  skirts  of  the  village.  A 
troop  of  strange  children  ran  at  his  heels,  hooting  after 
him,  and  pouiting  at  his  gray  beard.  The  dogs,  too,  not 
one  of  which  he  recognized  for  an  old  acquaintance, 
barked  at  him  as  he  passed.  The  very  village  was 
altered;  it  was  larger  and  more  populous.  There  were 
rows  of  houses  which  he  had  never  seen  before,  and 
those  which  had  been  his  familiar  haunts  had  disap- 
peared. Strange  names  were  over  the  doors  —  strange 
faces  at  the  windows  —  everything  was  strange.  His 
mind  now  misgave  him ;  he  began  to  doubt  whether 
both  he  and  the  world  around  him  were  not  bewitched. 
Surely  this  was  his  native  village,  which  he  had  left 
but  the  day  before.     There  stood  the  Kaatskill  Moun- 


^  345  S<- 

tains  —  there  ran  the  silver  Hudson  at  a  distance  — 
there  was  every  hill  and  dale  precisely  as  it  had  always 
been  —  Rip  was  sorely  perplexed  —  "  That  flagon  last 
night,"  thought  he,  "  has  addled  my  poor  head  sadly ! " 

It  was  with  some  difficulty  that  he  found  the  way  to 
his  own  house,  which  he  approached  with  silent  awe, 
expecting  every  moment  to  hear  the  shrill  voice  of  Dame 
Van  Winkle.  He  found  the  house  gone  to  decay  —  the 
roof  fallen  in,  the  windows  shattered,  and  the  doors 
off  the  hinges.  A  half-starved  dog  that  looked  like 
Wolf  was  skulking  about  it.  Rip  called  him  by  name, 
but  the  cur  snarled,  showed  his  teeth,  and  passed  on. 
This  was  an  unkind  cut  indeed.  "  My  very  dog,"  sighed 
poor  Rip,  "  has  forgotten  me  !  " 

He  entered  the  house,  which,  to  tell  the  truth,  Dame 
Van  Winkle  had  always  kept  in  neat  order.  It  was 
empty,  forlorn,  and  abandoned.  This  desolateness  over- 
came all .  his  fears  —  he  called  loudly  for  his  wife  and 
children  —  the  lonely  chambers  rang  for  a  moment  with 
his  voice,  and  then  all  again  was  silence. 

He  now  hurried  forth,  and  hastened  to  his  old  resort, 
the  village  inn  —  but  it,  too,  was  gone.  A  large  rickety 
wooden  building  stood  in  its  place,  with  great  gaping 
windows,  some  of  them  broken,  and  mended  with  old 
hats  and  petticoats,  and  over  the  door  was  painted, 
"  The  Union  Hotel,  by  Jonathan  Doolittle."  Instead  of 
the  great  tree  that  used  to  shelter  the  quiet  little  Dutch 


-^  346  ^ 

Inn  of  yore,  there  was  reared  a  tall  naked  pole,  and  from 
it  was  fluttering  a  flag,  on  which  were  a  number  of  stars 
and  stripes  —  all  this  was  strange  and  incomprehensible. 
He  recognized  on  the  sign,  however,  the  ruby  face  of 
King  George,  under  which  he  had  smoked  so  many  a 
peaceful  pipe,  but  even  this  was  singularly  changed. 
The  red  coat  was  changed  for  one  of  blue  and  buff,  a 
sword  was  held  in  the  hand  instead  of  a  sceptre,  the  head 
was  decorated  with  a  cocked  hat,  and  underneath  was 
painted  in  large  characters,  '^  GENERAL  WASHING- 
TON." 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  crowd  of  folks  about  the  door, 
but  none  that  Rip  recollected.  The  very  character  of  the 
people  seemed  changed.  There  was  a  busy,  bustling  tone 
about  it,  instead  of  the  accustomed  drowsy  tranquillity. 
He  looked  in  vain  for  the  sage  Nicholas  Yedder,  with  his 
broad  face,  double  chin,  and  fair  long  pipe,  uttering 
clouds  of  tobacco  smoke,  instead  of  idle  speeches ;  or 
Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster,  doling  forth  the  contents 
of  an  ancient  newspaper.  In  place  of  these  a  lean  fellow, 
with  his  pockets  full  of  handbills,  was  shouting  about 
rights  of  citizens  —  elections  —  members  of  Congress  — 
liberty — Bunker's  Hill — heroes  of  seventy-six — and  other 
words,  which  were  a  perfect  jargon  to  the  bewildered 
Van  Winkle. 

The  appearance  of  Rip,  with  his  long,  grizzled  beard, 
his  rusty  fowling-piece,  his  strange  dress,  and  an  army  of 


-«  347  8«- 

women  and  children  at  his  heels,  soon  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  tavern  politicians.  They  crowded  round  him, 
eyeing  him  from  head  to  foot  with  great  curiosity.  The 
orator  bustled  up  to  him,  and,  drawing  him  partly  aside, 
inquired,  ''on  which  side  he  voted?"  Rip  stared  in 
vacant  stupidity.  Another  short  but  busy  little  fellow 
pulled  him  by  the  arm,  and  rising  on  tiptoe,  inquired 
in  his  ear,  "  whether  he  was  Federal  or  Democrat." 

Rip  was  equally  at  a  loss  to  understand  this  question ; 
when  a  knowing,  self-important  old  gentleman,  in  a 
sharp  cocked  hat,  made  his  way  through  the  crowd, 
putting  them  to  the  right  and  left  with  his  elbows  as 
he  passed,  and  planting  himself  before  Van  Winkle,  with 
one  arm  akimbo,  the  other  resting  on  his  cane,  his  keen 
eyes  and  sharp  hat  penetrating,  as  it  were,  into  his  very 
soul,  demanded  in  a  harsh  tone,  "  What  brought  him  to 
the  election  with  a  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  mob  at 
his  heels ;  and  whether  he  meant  to  breed  a  riot  in  the 
village  ?  " 

"  Alas !  gentlemen,"  cried  Rip,  somewhat  dismayed, 
"  I  am  a  poor,  quiet  man,  a  native  of  the  place,  and  a 
loyal  subject  of  the  King,  God  bless  him !  " 

Here  a  general  shout  burst  from  the  bystanders  —  "a 
tory !  a  tory  !  a  spy  !  a  refugee  !  hustle  him  !  away  with 
him  !  "  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  the  self-impor- 
tant man  in  the  cocked  hat  restored  order ;  and  having 
assumed  a  tenfold  harshness  of  manner,  demanded  again 


-«  348  B^ 

of  the  unknown  culprit,  what  he  came  there  for,  and 
whom  he  was  seeking.  The  poor  man  humbly  assured 
him  that  he  meant  no  harm,  but  merely  came  there  in 
search  of  some  of  his  neighbors,  who  used  to  keep  about 
the  tavern. 

"  Well  —  who  are  they  ?  —  name  them." 

Rip  bethought  himself  a  moment,  and  inquired, 
"Where's  Nicholas  Vedder?" 

There  was  a  silence  for  a  little  while,  when  an  old 
man  replied,  in  a  thin,  piping  voice,  "  Nicholas  Vedder  ? 
Why,  he  is  dead  and  gone  these  eighteen  years !  There 
was  a  wooden  tombstone  in  the  churchyard,  that  used  to 
tell  all  about  him,  but  that's  gone  too." 

"  Where's  Brom  Butcher  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  went  off  to  the  army  in  the  beginning  of  the 
war;  some  say  he  was  killed  at  the  storming  of  Stony 
Point  —  others  say  he  was  drowned  in  a  squall  at  the  foot 
of  Anthony's  Nose.  I  don't  know  —  he  never  came  back 
again." 

"  Where's  Van  Bummel,  the  schoolmaster  ?  " 

"  He  went  off  to  the  wars,  too ;  was  a  great  militia 
general,  and  is  now  in  Congress." 

Rip's  heart  died  away,  at  hearing  of  these  sad  changes 
in  his  home  and  friends,  and  finding  himself  thus  alone  in 
the  world.  Every  answer  puzzled  him  too,  by  treating  of 
such  enormous  lapses  of  time,  and  of  matters  which  he 
could  not  understand  :   wars  —  Congress  —  Stony  Point ; 


^  349  8*- 

he  had  no  courage  to  ask  after  any  more  friends,  but 
cried  out  in  despair,  "  Does  nobody  here  know  Rip  Van 
Winkle?" 

"  Oh,  Rip  Van  Winkle ! "  exclaimed  two  or  three. 
''  Oh,  to  be  sure !  that's  Rip  Van  Winkle  yonder,  leaning 
against  the  tree." 

Rip  looked,  and  beheld  a  precise  counterpart  of  him- 
self as  he  went  up  the  mountain ;  apparently  as  lazy,  and 
certainly  as  ragged.  The  poor  fellow  was  now  completely 
confounded.  He  doubted  his  own  identity,  and  whether 
he  was  himself  or  another  man.  In  the  midst  of  his 
bewilderment,  the  man  in  the  cocked  hat  demanded  who 
he  was,  and  what  was  his  name  ? 

"  God  knows  !  "  exclaimed  he,  at  his  wit's  end  ;  "  I'm 
not  myself  —  I'm  somebody  else  —  that's  me  yonder  —  no 
—  that's  somebody  else,  got  into  my  shoes  —  I  was  my- 
self last  night,  but  I  fell  asleep  on  the  mountain,  and 
they've  changed  my  gun,  and  everything's  changed,  and 
I'm  changed,  and  I  can't  tell  what's  my  name,  or  who  I 
am ! " 

The  bystanders  began  now  to  look  at  each  other,  nod, 
wink  significantly,  and  tap  their  fingers  against  their  fore- 
heads. There  was  a  whisper,  also,  about  securing  the  gun, 
and  keeping  the  old  fellow  from  doing  mischief ;  at  every 
suggestion  of  which,  the  self-important  man  with  the 
cocked  hat  retired  with  some  haste.  At  this  critical 
moment   a   fresh,    comely   woman   pressed   through   the 


-^  350  B^ 

throng  to  get  a  peep  at  the  gray-bearded  man.  She  had 
a  chubby  child  in  her  arms,  which,  frightened  at  his 
looks,  began  to  cry.  "  Hush,  Rip,"  cried  she,  ^'  hush,  you 
little  goose  ;  the  old  man  won't  hurt  you."  The  name  of 
the  child,  the  air  of  the  mother,  the  tone  of  her  voice,  all 
awakened  a  train  of  recollections  in  his  mind. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  good  woman  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Judith  Gardenier." 

"  And  your  father's  name  ?  " 

"  Ah,  poor  man.  Rip  Van  Winkle  was  his  name,  but 
it's  twenty  years  since  he  went  away  from  home  with  his 
gun,  and  never  has  been  heard  of  since,  —  his  dog  came 
home  without  him ;  but  whether  he  shot  himself,  or  was 
carried  away  by  the  Indians,  nobody  can  tell.  I  was  then 
but  a  little  girl." 

Rip  had  but  one  more  question  to  ask ;  but  he  put  it 
with  a  faltering  voice  :  — 

"  Where's  your  mother  ?  " 

Oh,  she,  too,  had  died  but  a  short  time  since ;  she 
broke  a  blood-vessel  in  a  fit  of  passion  at  a  New  England 
pedler. 

,  .There  was  a  drop  of  comfort,  at  least,  in  this  intelli- 
gence. The  honest  man  could  contain  himself  no  longer. 
He  caught  his  daughter  and  her  child  in  his  arms.  "  I 
am  your  father !"  cried  he  —  "young  Rip  Van  Winkle 
once  —  old  Rip  Van  Winkle  now.  Does  nobody  know 
poor  Rip  Van  Winkle  ?  " 


-«  351  Q^ 

All  stood  amazed,  until  an  old  woman,  tottering  out 
from  among  the  crowd,  put  her  hand  to  her  brow,  and 
peering  under  it  in  his  face  for  a  moment,  exclaimed  : 
"  Sure  enough  !  it  is  Rip  Van  Winkle  —  it  is  himself. 
Welcome  home  again,  old  neighbor.  Why,- where  have 
you  been  all  these  twenty  years  ?  " 

Rip's  story  was  soon  told,  for  the  whole  twenty  years 
had  been  to  him  but  as  one  night.  The  neighbors  stared 
when  they  heard  it ;  some  were  seen  to  wink  at  each 
other,  and  put  their  tongues  in  their  cheeks ;  and  the  self- 
important  man  in  the  cocked  hat,  who,  when  the  alarm 
was  over,  had  returned  to  the  field,  screwed  down  the 
corners  of  his  mouth,  and  shook  his  head  —  upon  which 
there  was  a  general  shaking  of  the  head  throughout  the 
assemblage. 

It  was  determined,  however,  to  take  the  opinion  of  old 
Peter  Vanderdonk,  who  was  seen  slowly  advancing  up  the 
road.  He  was  a  descendant  of  the  historian  of  that  name, 
who  wrote  one  of  the  earliest  accounts  of  the  province. 
Peter  was  the  most  ancient  inhabitant  of  the  village,  and 
well  versed  in  all  the  wonderful  events  and  traditions  of 
the  neighborhood.  He  recollected  Rip  at  once,  and  cor- 
roborated his  story  in  the  most  satisfactory  manner. 

He  assured  the  company  that  it  was  a  fact,  handed 
down  from  his  ancestor,  the  historian,  that  the  Kaatskill 
Mountains  had  always  been  haunted  by  strange  beings. 
It  was  also  affirmed  that  the  great  Hendrick  Hudson,  the 


^  352  8«- 

first  discoverer  of  the  river  and  country,  kept  a  kind  of 
vigil  there  every  twenty  years,  with  his  crew  of  the  Half- 
moon ;  being  permitted  in  this  way  to  revisit  the  scenes 
of  his  enterprise,  and  keep  a  guardian  eye  upon  the  river 
and  the  great  city  called  by  his  name.  His  father,  he 
said,  had  once  seen  them  in  their  old  Dutch  dresses  play- 
ing at  ninepins  .  in  a  hollow  of  the  mountain ;  and  he 
himself  had  heard,  one  summer  afternoon,  the  sound  of 
their  balls,  like  distant  peals  of  thunder. 

To  make  a  long  story  short,  the  company  broke  up 
and  returned  to  the  more  important  concerns  of  the  elec- 
tion. Rip's  daughter  took  him  home  to  live  with  her ; 
she  had  a  snug,  well-furnished  house,  and  a  stout  cheery 
farmer  for  a  husband,  whom  Rip  recollected  for  one  of 
the  urchins  that  used  to  climb  upon  his  back.  As  to 
Rip's  son  and  heir,  who  was  the  ditto  of  himself,  seen 
leaning  against  the  tree,  he  was  employed  to  work  on  the 
farm ;  but  showed  an  hereditary  disposition  to  attend  to 
anything  else  but  his  business. 

Rip  now  resumed  his  old  walks  and  habits ;  he  soon 
found  many  of  his  former  cronies,  though  all  rather  the 
worse  for  the  wear  and  tear  of  time ;  and  preferred  mak- 
ing friends  among  the  rising  generation,  with  whom  he 
soon  grew  into  great  favor. 

Having  nothing  to  do  at  home,  he  took  his  place  once 
more  on  the  bench  at  the  inn  door,  and  was  reverenced 
as  one  of  the  patriarchs  of  the  village,  and  a  chronicler 


^  353  8«- 

of  the  old  times  "  before  the  war."  It  was  some  time 
before  he  could  get  into  the  regular  track  of  gossip,  or 
could  be  made  to  understand  the  strange  events  that  had 
taken  place  during  his  twenty  years'  sleep :  —  how  that 
there  had  been  a  revolutionary  war  —  that  the  country 
had  thrown  off  the  yoke  of  old  England  —  and  that, 
instead  of  being  a  subject  of  his  Majesty  George  the 
Third,  he  was  now  a  free  citizen  of  the  United 
States. 

He  used  to  tell  his  story  to  every  stranger  that  arrived 
at  Mr.  Doolittle's  hotel.  He  was  observed,  at  first,  to 
vary  on  some  points  every  time  he  told  it,  which  was, 
doubtless,  owing  to  his  having  so  recently  awaked.  It 
at  last  settled  down  precisely  to  the  tale  I  have  related, 
and  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  in  the  neighborhood,  but 
knew  it  by  heart.  Some  always  pretended  to  doubt  the 
reality  of  it,  and  insisted  that  Rip  had  been  out  of  his 
head,  and  this  was  one  point  on  which  he  always  remained 
flighty. 

The  old  Dutch  inhabitants,  however,  gave  it  full 
credit.  Even  to  this  day,  they  never  hear  a  thunder- 
storm of  a  summer  afternoon  about  the  Kaatskill  Moun- 
tains, but  they  say  Hendrick  Hudson  and  his  crew  are  at 
their  game  of  ninepins. 

—  Washington  Irving. 


^  354  BA- 


KING  ARTHUR   WINS   EXCALIBUR 


razed 

jeopard 

Merlin 

joust 

samite 

Caerleon 

churls 

pavilion 

Excalibur 

One  morning  as  King  Arthur  rode  forth  alone  through 
the  forest  he  was  ware  of  three  churls  chasing  Merlin  to 
slay  him.  So  he  rode  swiftly  on  to  them,  crying,  "  Flee, 
churls !  "  and  drawing  his  sword  against  them. 

When  they  saw  so  brave  a  knight  riding  upon  them, 
the  cowardly  churls  fled  away,  and  Merlin  came  to  meet 
his  king. 

"  0  Merlin,"  said  King  Arthur,  "  here  hadst  thou  been 
slain  for  all  thy  craft,  had  I. not  been  near  thee." 

"  Nay,"  said  Merlin,  "  not  so,  for  I  could  save  rnyself 
if  I  would,  and  thou  art  more  near  thy  death  than  I  am 


mine." 


So  as  they  went  thus  talking,  they  came  to  a  fountain, 
and  near  by  sat  a  knight  all  armed,  in  a  rich  pavilion. 
"  Sir  Knight,"  said  King  Arthur,  "  for  what  cause  abidest 
thou  here  ?  " 

''  That  no  knight  may  ride  this  way  unless  he  joust 
with  me,"  said  the  knight. 

"  That  no  knight  may  ride  this  way  unless  he  joust 
with  thee ! "  said  the  king.  "  I  advise  thee  to  amend 
that  custom." 


-^  355  d^ 

"  Nay,"  said  the  knight,  "  but  I  shall  defend  it." 

Then  he  took  his  horse  and  dressed  his  shield,  and 
took  his  spear  and  they  ran  together  and  met  so  hard 
that  their  spears  were  shivered.  But  the  knight  hit  King 
Arthur  so  hard  in  the  middle  of  the  shield  that  horse  and 
man  fell  to  the  earth,  and  therewith  Arthur  was  eager 
and  pulled  out  his  sword.  When  the  knight  saw  this  he 
alighted  from  his  horse  and  drew  his  sword,  and  there 
began  a  strong  battle,  with  many  great  strokes. 

At  length  the  sword  of  the  knight  smote  King 
Arthur's  sword  in  two  pieces.  Then  said  the  knight 
unto  Arthur,  "  Thou  art  in  my  power,  so  that  I  may  save 
thee  or  slay  thee,  and  unless  thou  acknowledge  thyself 
as  overcome,  thou  shalt  die." 

"As  for  death,"  said  King  Arthur,  "welcome  be  it 
when  it  cometh,  but  as  for  acknowledging  myself  as  over- 
come by  thee,  I  will  not."  Then  he  leaped  upon  the 
knight  and  threw  him  to  the  ground ;  but  the  knight  was 
a  strong  man  of  might,  and  anon  he  brought  Arthur 
under  him,  and  would  have  razed  off  his  helm  to  slay 
him. 

Therewithal  came  Merlin,  and  said,  "Knight,  hold 
thy  hand,  for  if  thou  slay  that  knight,  thou  puttest  this 
realm  in  great  danger,  for  this  knight  is  a  man  of  more 
worship  than  thou  knowest." 

"  Why,  who  is  he  ?  "  said  the  knight. 

"  It  is  King  Arthur." 


^  356  8«- 

Then  would  the  knight  have  slain  the  king  for  very 
dread  of  his  wrath,  and  lifted  up  his  sword  to  slay  him, 
but  Merlin  cast  an  enchantment  on  the  knight,  so  that  he 
fell  to  the  earth  in  a  deep  sleep. 

Then  Merlin  took  up  King  Arthur  and  set  him  on  his 
horse.  ^^Alas!"  said  King  Arthur,  "what  hast  thou 
done.  Merlin  ?  Hast  thou  slain  this  good  knight  by  thy 
crafts?" 

"Care  ye  not,"  said  Merlin,  "for  he  is  but  asleep,  and 
will  awake  within  three  hours." 

So  the  king  and  Merlin  departed,  and  went  unto  a 
hermit  that  was  a  good  man,  and  a  great  leech.  So  the 
hermit  bound  up  all  the  king's  wounds  and  gave  him 
good  salves;  and  he  was  there  three  days.  Then  were 
his  wounds  so  well  a-mended  that  he  might  ride  and  go 
forth,  and  Merlin  and  the  king  departed.  As  they  rode 
Arthur  said,  "  I  have  no  sword." 

"  Have  no  fear,"  said  Merlin;  "  hereby  is  a  sword  that 
shall  be  yours."  So  they  rode  till  they  came  to  a  lake, 
which  was  a  fair  water  and  broad,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
lake  King  Arthur  was  ware  of  an  arm  clothed  in  white 
samite,  that  held  a  fair  sword  in  the  hand. 

"  Lo,"  said  Merlin,  "  yonder  is  the  sword  of  which  T 
spoke  to  thee."  With  that  they  beheld  a  damsel  going 
upon  the  lake. 

"  What  damsel  is  that  ?  "  said  Arthur. 

"  That  is  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  said  Merlin ;  "  and 


-^  357  B^ 

she  will  come  to  you  anon.  Then  speak  ye  fair  to  her 
that  she  may  give  you  the  sword." 

Anon  came  the  damsel  unto  Arthur  and  saluted  him, 
and  he  said  to  her,  "  Damsel,  what  sword  is  that,  that 
yonder  the  arm  holdeth  above  the  water?  I  would  it 
were  mine,  for  I  have  no  sword." 

'^  Sir  King,"  said  the  damsel,  "  that  sword  is  mine, 
and  if  ye  will  give  me  a  gift  when  I  ask  it  of  you,  ye 
shall  have  the  sword." 

'^  By  my  faith,"  said  Arthur,  "  I  will  give  you  what- 
ever gift  ye  shall  ask." 

"  Well  said,"  answered  the  damsel.  "  Now  go  ye  into 
yonder  barge  and  row  yourself  to  the  sword,  and  take  it 
and  the  scabbard  with  you,  and  I  will  ask  my  gift  when 
I  see  my  time." 

So  King  Arthur  and  Merlin  alighted,  and  tied  their 
horses  to  two  trees,  and  went  into  the  barge.  When  they 
had  come  to  the  sword  that  the  hand  was  holding  out  of 
the  water.  King  Arthur  took  it  by  the  handle  and  drew  it 
gently  away.  The  arm  and  the  hand  disappeared  in  the 
water;  Merlin  and  the  king  returned  to  the  shore, 
mounted  their  horses,  and  rode  forth  into  the  forest. 

Then  King  Arthur  looked  upon  the  sword  and  liked 
it  passing  well. 

"  Whether  likest  thou  better,"  said  Merlin,  "  the  sword 
or  the  scabbard  ?" 

^'Me  liketh  better  the  sword,"  replied  Arthur,  "and 


^  358  Q^ 

it  shall  be  my  good  and  trusted  sword  and  I  will  call  it 
'  Excalibur.'  " 

"  Ye  are  most  unwise,"  said  Merlin,  "  for  the  scabbard 
is  worth  ten  of  the  sword,  for  while  ye  have  the  scabbard 
upon  you,  ye  shall  lose  no  blood  be  ye  ever  so  sorely 
wounded.  Therefore  keep  well  the  scabbard  always  with 
you." 

So  they  rode  on  Caerleon,  and  when  his  knights  of  the 
Table  Round  heard  of  his  adventures  they  marvelled  that 
he  would  so  jeopard  his  person,  but  all  men  said  it  was 
merry  to  be  under  such  a  chieftain  who  feared  naught  and 
met  his  adventures  with  a  glad  heart. 

—  Sm  Thomas  Malory   (Adapted). 


But  when  he  spake,  and  cheered  his  Table  Round 
With  large,  divine  and  comfortable  words 
Beyond  my  tongue  to  tell  thee  —  I  beheld 
From  eye  to  eye  thro'  all  their  Order  flash 
A  momentary  likeness  of  the  King : 
And  ere  it  left  their  faces, 
Down  from  the  casement  over  Arthur,  smote 
Flame-color,  vert  and  azure,  in  three  rays. 
One  falling  upon  each  of  three  fair  queens, 
Who  stood  in  silence  near  his  throne,  the  friends 
Of  Arthur,  gazing  on  him,  tall,  with  bright 
Sweet  faces,  who  will  help  him  at  his  need. 

—  Alfred  Tknnyson. 


-«  359  8«- 


THE    DEATH   OF   KING   ARTHUR 


Lucan 

Gawain 

Launcelot 

Bedivere 

carrack 

Salisbury 

Mordred 

avenged 

Canterbury 

While  King  Arthur  was  absent  to  do  battle  with  Sir 
Launcelot,  Sir  Mordred  was  ruler  of  all  England,  and  he 
caused  letters  to  be  made  as  though  they  came  from 
beyond  the  sea.  The  letters  specified  that  King  Arthur 
was  slain  in  battle  with  Sir  Launcelot ;  wherefore  Sir 
Mordred  called  the  lords  together,  and  there  he  made 
them  choose  him  king.  And  so  he  was  crowned  at 
Canterbury,  and  held  a  feast  there  fifteen  days. 

Then  came  word  to  Sir  Mordred  that  King  Arthur 
had  raised  the  siege  from  Sir  Launcelot,  and  that  he  was 
coming  homeward  with  a  great  host  to  be  avenged  upon 
Sir  Mordred.  And  so  Sir  Mordred  drew  toward  Dover 
with  a  great  host,  for  there  he  heard  say  that  King 
Arthur  would  arrive. 

And  so,  as  Sir  Mordred  was  at  Dover  with  his  army, 
there  came  King  Arthur  with  a  great  navy  of  ships,  gal- 
leys, and  carracks.  There  was  Sir  Mordred  ready  to 
hinder  his  own  uncle  from  landing  upon  the  land  over 
which  he  was  rightful  king. 

Then  there  was  a  launching  of  great  boats  and  small, 
and  full  of  noble  men  of  arms.     But  Kino;  Arthur  was  so 


-«  360  8«- 

courageous  that  there  might  no  manner  of  knight  hinder 
him  from  landing,  and  his  knights  fiercely  followed  him. 
And  so  they  landed  in  spite  of  Sir  Mordred  and  all  his 
power,  and  drove  Sir  Mordred  back  so  that  he  fled  with 
all  his  army. 

Then  King  Arthur  drew  him  with  his  army  down  by 
the  seaside,  westward  unto  Salisbury,  and  there  was  a 
day  assigned  between  the  king  and  Sir  Mordred  that  they 
should  meet  between  their  hosts  upon  a  down  beside 
Salisbury;  whereof  King  Arthur  was  passing  glad,  that 
he  might  be  avenged  upon  Sir  Mordred. 

Then  went  King  Arthur  into  the  fields  and  warned  all 
his  army  that  if  they  saw  any  sword  drawn,  they  should 
come  on  fiercely  and  slay  Sir  Mordred.  "  For,"  said  he, 
"  I  in  no  wise  trust  him,  and  fear  that  he  may  prove  a 
traitor  in  this  treaty." 

In  like  wise  Sir  Mordred  did  w:arn  his  army,  "  If 
ye  see  any  manner  of  sword  drawn,  look  that  ye  come 
on  fiercely  and  so  slay  all  that  standeth  before  you, 
for  in  no  wise  will  I  trust  this  treaty,  for  I  know  that 
Arthur  will  be  avenged  upon  me." 

So  they  met  as  their  appointment  was,  and  were 
agreed  and  accorded  thoroughly.  Right  so  came  an 
adder  out  of  a  little  bush,  and  it  stung  a  knight  on  the 
foot ;  and  when  the  knight  felt  himself  stung  he  looked 
down  and  saw  the  adder,  and  then  he  drew  his  sword 
to  slay  the  adder,  and  thought  of  no  other  harm. 


-^  361  8<- 

But  when  the  hosts  saw  the  drawn  sword  they  blew 
trumpets  and  horns  and  shouted  grimly.  So  both 
hosts  dressed  their  shields  and  King  Arthur  mounted 
his  horse.  Sir  Mordred  did  in  like  wise,  and  never  was 
there  a  more  doleful  battle  in  Christian  lands,  for  they 
fought  till  it  was  nigh  night,  and  by  that  time  was  there 
a  hundred  thousand  dead  upon  the  down. 

Then  the  king  looked  about  him  and  was  ware  that 
of  all  his  host,  and  of  all  his  good  knights  no  more  were 
left  but  two  knights,  Sir  Lucan,  and  Sir  Bedivere,  his 
brother,  and  they  were  sorely  wounded. 

"  Alas  !  that  ever  I  should  see  this  doleful  day,'' 
said  King  Arthur,  *^  for  now  I  am  come  unto  mine  end, 
nor  am  I  yet  avenged  on  that  traitor,  Sir  Mordred, 
which  hath  caused  all  this  mischief." 

Then  was  the  king  ware  of  Sir  Mordred  where  he 
leaned  upon  his  sword.  "  Now  give  me  my  spear," 
said  King  Arthur  to  Sir  Lucan,  "for  yonder  I  have 
espied  the  traitor  which  hath  wrought  all  this  woe." 

"  Sir,  let  him  be,"  said  Sir  Lucan,  "  for  if  ye  pass  this 
unhappy  day  ye  shall  be  right  well  avenged  upon  him. 
Remember  well  your  dream  and  what  the  spirit  of  Sir 
Gawain  told  you,  and  leave  off  now.  Ye  have  won  the 
field,  for  we  be  three  alive,  and  with  Sir  Mordred  is  none ; 
and  if  ye  leave  off  now  this  evil  day  of  destiny  is  passed." 

"Betide  me  death,  betide  me  life,"  said  the  king, 
"he  shall   not   now  escape   my  hand."     Then  the  king 


-^  362  8<- 

took  his  spear  in  both  his  hands,  and  ran  toward  Sir 
Mordred,  crying,  "  Traitor,  now  is  thy  death-day  come." 

And  when  Sir  Mordred  heard  King  Arthur,  he  ran 
unto  him  with  his  sword  drawn.  Then  King  Arthur 
smote  Sir  Mordred  under  the  shield  with  a  thrust  of  his 
spear  through  the  body.  When  Sir  Mordred  felt  that  he 
had  his  death-wound,  with  the  might  .that  he  had,  he 
smote  King  Arthur  on  the  head  with  his  sword.  There- 
withal Sir  Mordred  fell  dead  to  the  earth,  and  the  noble 
Arthur  fell  in  a  swoon. 

And  Sir  Lucan  and  Sir  Bedivere  raised  him  up  gently, 
and  weakly  they  bore  him  to  a  little  chapel  not  far  from 
the  sea.  But  Sir  Lucan  died  from  his  many  wounds 
and    Sir   Bedivere   wept   for   the   death    of    his  brother. 

Then  said  King  Arthur  unto  his  beloved  knight, 
"  The  time  cometh  soon  when  I  must  follow  thy  brother, 
therefore,  take  thou  Excalibur,  my  good  sword,  and  go 
with  it  to  yonder  water  side,  and  when  thou  comest 
there,  I  charge  thee  throw  my  sword  in  that  water,  and 
return  to  me,  and  tell  me  what  thou  hast  seen." 

"  My  lord,"  replied  Sir  Bedivere,  "  thy  commands 
shall  be  done,  and  swiftly  will  I  bring  you  word  of  it." 
And  so  Sir  Bedivere  departed ;  and  by  the  way  he 
gazed  upon  that  noble  sword,  with  the  haft  all  set  with 
precious  stones,  and  then  he  said  to  himself,  "  If  I  throw 
this  rich  sword  in  the  water,  thereof  shall  never  come 
good,  but  harm  and  loss." 


-^  363  B^ 

Then  he  hid  Excalibur  under  a  tree,  and  as  soon  as 
he  might  he  returned  to  King  Arthur,  and  said  he  had 
been  to  the  seaside  and  had  thrown  the  sword  into  the 
water. 

"  What  sawest  thou  there  ?  "  said  the  king. 

"  Sir,"  replied  the  knight,  "  I  saw  nothing  but  waves 
and  wind." 

"  That  is  untruly  said,"  replied  King  Arthur ;  ''  there- 
fore go  thou  swiftly  and  do  my  command,  as  thou  art  to 
me  dear  and  beloved ;  spare  not,  but  throw  it  in." 

Then  Sir  Bedivere  went  again  and  took  Excalibur  in 
his  hand ;  but  he  thought  again  it  was  a  sin  and  a  shame 
to  throw  away  that  noble  sword.  So  he  hid  the  sword 
and  returned  again  and  told  the  king  that  he  had  been  to 
the  water  and  done  his  command. 

"  What  saw  ye  there  ?  "  asked  the  king. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  ''  I  saw  nothing  but  the  water  lap,  and 
the  waves  ebb." 

''  Oh,  traitor  untrue  !  "  said  King  Arthur,  "  now  hast 
thou  betrayed  me  twice.  Who  would  have  guessed  that 
thou,  who  hast  been  unto  me  so  beloved,  wouldst  betray 
me  for  a  rich  sword.  Go  again  swiftly  and  do  as  I 
command." 

Then  Sir  Bedivere  departed,  and  went  to  the  water's 
side,  and  there  he  threw  Excalibur  into  the  water,  with 
all  his  might ;  and  then  came  an  arm  and  a  hand  above 
the  water,  and  met  the  sword  and  caught  it,  and  so  shook 


-«  364  B«- 

it  thrice  and  brandished  it.  Then  the  hand  vanished 
away  into  the  water,  bearing  the  sword. 

So  Sir  Bedivere  came  again  to  the  king  and  told  him 
what  he  had  seen.  "  Bear  me  hence,"  said  King  Arthur, 
"  to  the  water's  side,  for  my  life  ebbs  fast." 

Then  Sir  Bedivere  took  King  Arthur  upon  his  back, 
and  so  went  with  him  to  the  water's  side.  And  there,  by 
the  bank,  was  a  little  barge  with  many  fair  ladies  in  it, 
and  among  them  were  three  queens,  and  they  wept  when 
they  beheld  the  king. 

"  Now  place  me  in  the  barge,"  said  King  Arthur,  and 
Sir  Bedivere  did  so.  And  there  received  him  the  three 
queens  with  great  mourning,  one  of  them  murmuring, 
"  Alas,  dear  brother,  why  have  ye  tarried  so  long ! " 

Then  they  rowed  away  from  the  land,  the  queens  and 
the  ladies  weeping  evermore  as  they  bore  King  Arthur 
gently  in  their  midst. 

—  Sir  Thomas  Malory  (Adapted). 

"  But  now  farewell.     I  am  going  a  long  way 

With  these  thou  seest  —  if  indeed  I  go 

(For  all  my  mind  is  clouded  with  a  doubt)  — 

To  the  island- valley  of  Avilion  ; 

Where  falls  not  hail,  or  rain,  or  any  snow. 

Nor  ever  wind  blows  loudly ;  but  it  lies 

Deep-meadowed,  happy,  fair  with  orchard  lawns 

And  bowery  hollows  crowned  with  summer  sea, 

Where  I  will  heal  me  of  my  grievous  wound." 


^  365  Q^ 

So  said  he,  and  the  barge  with  oar  and  sail 

Moved  from  the  brink,  like  some  full-breasted  swan 

That,  fluting  a  wild  carol  ere  her  death, 

Ruffles  her  pure  cold  plume,  and  takes  the  flood 

With  swarthy  webs.     Long  stood  Sir  Bedivere 

Revolving  many  memories,  till  the  hull 

Looked  one  black  dot  against  the  verge  of  dawn, 

And  on  the  mere  the  wailing  died  away. 

Whereat  he  slowly  turned  and  slowly  clomb 

The  last  hard  footstep  of  that  iron  crag ; 

Thence  marked  the  black  hull  moving  yet,  and  cried, 

"  He  passes  to  be  King  among  the  dead, 

And  after  healing  of  his  grievous  wound 

He  comes  again ;  but  —  if  he  come  no  more  — 

0  me,  be  yon  dark  Queens  in  yon  black  boat. 

Who  shrieked  and  wailed,  the  three  whereat  we  gazed 

On  that  high  day,  when,  clothed  with  living  light, 

They  stood  before  his  throne  in  silence,  friends 

Of  Arthur,  who  should  help  him  at  his  need  ?  " 

Thereat  once  more  he  moved  about,  and  clomb 
Ev'n  to  the  highest  he  could  climb,  and  saw. 
Straining  his  eyes  beneath  an  arch  of  hand, 
Or  thought  he  saw,  the  speck  that  bare  the  King, 
Down  that  long  water  opening  on  the  deep 
Somewhere  far  off,  pass  on  and  on,  and  go 
From  less  to  less  and  vanish  into  light. 
And  the  new  sun  rose  bringing  the  new  year. 

—  Alfred  Tennyson. 


-«  366  8«- 

THE   VISION    OF   SIR   LAUNFAL 

"  My  golden  spurs  now  bring  to  me, 

And  bring  to  me  my  richest  mail, 
For  to-morrow  I  go  over  land  and  sea 

In  search  of  the  Holy  Grail ; 
Shall  never  a  bed  for  me  be  spread, 
Nor  shall  a  pillow  be  under  my  head. 
Till  I  begin  my  vow  to  keep ; 
Here  on  the  rushes  will  I  sleep. 
And  perchance  there  may  come  a  vision  true 
Ere  day  create  the  world  anew." 

Slowly  Sir  Launfal's  eyes  grew  dim, 

Slumber  fell  like  a  cloud  on  him, 
And  into  his  soul  the  vision  flew. 

The  crows  flapped  over  by  twos  and  threes. 

In  the  pool  drowsed  the  cattle  up  to  their  knees. 
The  little  birds  sang  as  if  it  were 
The  one  day  of  summer  in  all  the  year, 

And  the  very  leaves  seemed  to  sing  on  the  trees ; 

The  castle  alone  in  the  landscape  lay 

Like  an  outpost  of  winter,  dull  and  gray ; 

'Twas  the  proudest  hall  in  the  North  Countree, 

And  never  its  gates  might  open  be. 

Save  to  lord  or  lady  of  high  degree ; 

Summer  besieged  it  on  every  side, 


^  367  B^ 

Bi\t  the  churlish  stone  her  assaults  defied ; 

She  could  not  scale  the  chilly  wall, 

Though  around  it  for  leagues  her  pavilions  tall 

Stretched  left  and  right, 

Over  the  hills  and  out  of  sight ; 

Green  and  broad  was  every  tent, 

And  out  of  each  a  murmur  went 
Till  the  breeze  fell  off  at  night. 

The  drawbridge  dropped  with  a  surly  clang, 
And  through  the  dark  a  charger  sprang. 
Bearing  Sir  Launfal,  the  maiden  knight, 
In  his  gilded  mail,  that  flamed  so  bright 
It  seemed  the  dark  castle  had  gathered  all 
Those  shafts  the  fierce  sun  had  shot  over  its  wall 

In  his  siege  of  three  hundred  summers  long, 
And,  binding  them  all  in  one  blazing  sheaf. 

Had  cast  them  forth  :  so,  young  and  strong. 
And  lightsome  as  a  locust-leaf. 
Sir  Launfal  flashed  forth  in  his  unscarred  mail, 
To  seek  in  all  climes  for  the  Holy  Grail. 

It  was  morning  on  hill  and  stream  and  tree. 
And  morning  in  the  young  knight's  heart ; 

Only  the  castle  moodily 

Rebuffed  the  gifts  of  the  sunshine  free. 
And  gloomed  by  itself  apart; 


■^  368  8«- 

The  season  brimmed  all  other  things  up 
Full  as  the  rain  fills  the  pitcher-plant's  cup. 

As  Sir  Launfal  made  morn  through  the  darksome  gate, 

He  was  'ware  of  a  leper,  crouched  by  the  same, 
Who  begged  with  his  hand  and  moaned  as  he  sate ; 

And  a  loathing  over  Sir  Launfal  came ; 
The  sunshine  went  out  of  his  soul  with  a  thrill, 

The  flesh  'neath  his  armor  'gan  shrink  and  crawl. 
And  midway  its  leap  his  heart  stood  still 

Like  a  frozen  waterfall ; 
For  this  man,  so  foul  and  bent  of  stature. 
Rasped  harshly  against  his  dainty  nature. 
And  seemed  the  one  blot  on  the  summer  morn,  — 
So  he  tossed  him  a  piece  of  gold  in  scorn. 

The  leper  raised  not  the  gold  from  the  dust : 
"  Better  to  me  the  poor  man's  crust, 
Better  the  blessing  of  the  poor. 
Though  I  turn  me  empty  from  his  door ; 
That  is  no  true  alms  which  the  hand  can  hold ; 
He  gives  nothing  but  worthless  gold 

Who  gives  from  a  sense  of  duty ; 
But  he  who  gives  but  a  slender  mite, 
And  gives  to  that  which  is  out  of  sight. 

That  thread  of  the  all-sustaining  beauty 
Which  runs  through  all  and  doth  all  unite,  — 


-^  369  8«- 

The  hand  cannot  clasp  the  whole  of'  his  alms, 

The  heart  outstretches  its  eager  palms. 

For  a  god  goes  with  it  and  makes  it  store 

To  the  soul  that  was  starving  in  darkness  before." 

There  was  never  a  leaf  on  a  bush  or  tree, 
The  bare  boughs  rattled  shudderingly ; 
The  river  was  dumb  and  could  not  speak, 

For  the  weaver  Winter  its  shroud  had  spun ; 
A  single  crow  on  the  tree-top  bleak 

From  his  shining  feathers  shed  off  the  cold  sun; 
Again  it  was  morning,  but  shrunk  and  cold, 
As  if  her  veins  were  sapless  and  old^, 
And  she  rose  up  decrepitly 
For  a  last  dim  look  at  earth  and  sea. 

Sir  Launfal  turned  from  his  own  hard  gate, 

For  another  heir  in  the  earldom  sate ; 

An  old,  bent  man,  worn  out  and  frail. 

He  came  back  from  seeking  the  Holy  Grail ; 

Little  he  recked  of  his  earldom's  loss. 

No  more  on  his  surcoat  was  blazoned  the  cross, 

But  deep  in  his  soul  the  sign  he  wore. 

The  badge  of  the  suffering  and  the  poor. 

Sir  LaunfaFs  raiment  thin  and  spare 
Was  idle  mail  'gainst  the  barbed  air. 


-^  370  8«- 

For  it  was  just  at  the  Christmas  time ; 

So  he  mused,  as  he  sat,  of  a  sunnier  clime. 

And  sought  for  a  shelter  from  cold  and  snow 

In  the  light  and  warmth  of  long  ago : 

He  sees  the  snakelike  caravan  crawl 

O'er  the  edge  of  the  desert,  black  and  small. 

Then  nearer  and  nearer,  till,  one  by  one. 

He  can  count  the  camels  in  the  sun. 

As  over  the  red-hot  sands  they  pass 

To  where,  in  its  slender  necklace  of  grass, 

The  little  spring  laughed  and  leapt  in  the  shade, 

And  with  its  own  self  like  an  infant  played. 

And  waved  its  signal  of  palms. 

"  For  Christ's  sweet  sake,  I  beg  an  alms ;  "  — 
The  happy  camels  may  reach  the  spring, 
But  Sir  Launfal  sees  only  the  grewsome  thing, 
The  leper,  lank  as  the  rain-blanched  bone. 
That  cowers  beside  him,  a  thing  as  lonp 
And  white  as  the  ice-isles  of  Northern  seas 
In  the  desolate  horror  of  his  disease. 


And  Sir  Launfal  said,  —  "I  behold  in  thee 
An  image  of  Him  who  died  on  the  tree ; 
Thou  also  hast  had  thy  crown  of  thorns,  — 
Thou  also  hast  had  the  world's  buffets  and  scorns. 


■^  371  8<- 

And  to  thy  life  were  not  denied 
The  wounds  in  the  hands  and  feet  and  side : 
Mild  Mary's  Son,  acknowledge  me ; 
Behold,  through  him,  I  give  to  Thee  !  " 

Then  the  soul  of  the  leper  stood  up  in  his  eyes 

And  looked  at  Sir  Launfal,  and  straightway  he 
Remembered  in  what  a  haughtier  guise 

He  •had  flung  an  alms  to  leprosie. 
When  he  girt  his  young  life  in  gilded  mail 
And  set  forth  in  search  of  the  Holy  Grail. 
The  heart  within  him  was  ashes  and  dust ; 
He  parted  in  twain  his  single  crust, 
He  brake  the  ice  on  the  streamlet's  brink. 
And  gave  the  leper  to  eat  and  drink, 
'Twas  a  mouldy  crust  of  coarse  brown  bread, 

'Twas  water  out  of  a  wooden  bowl,  — 
Yet  with  fine  wheaten  bread  was  the  leper  fed. 

And  'twas  red  wine  he  drank  with  his  thirsty  soul. 

As  Sir  Launfal  mused  with  a  downcast  face, 

A  light  shone  round  about  the  place ; 

The  leper  no  longer  crouched  at  his  side, 

But  stood  before  him  glorified. 

Shining  and  tall  and  fair  and  straight 

As  the  pillar  that  stood  by  the  Beautiful  Gate,  — 


-^  372  B^ 

Himself  the  Gate  whereby  men  can 
Enter  the  temple  of  God  in  Man. 

His  words  were  shed  softer  than  leaves  from  the  pine. 

And  they  fell  on  Sir  Launfal  as  snow  on  the  brine 

That  mingle  their  softness  and  quiet  in  one 

With  the  shaggy  unrest  they  float  down  upon ; 

And  the  voice  that  was  calmer  than  silence  said, 

"  Lo  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid  ! 

In  many  climes,  without  avail. 

Thou  hast  spent  thy  life  for  the  Holy  Grail ; 

Behold,  it  is  here,  —  this  cap  which  thou 

Didst  fill  at  the  streamlet  for  me  but  now ; 

This  crust  is  my  body  broken  for  thee. 

This  water  His  blood  that  died  on  the  tree. 

The  Holy  Supper  is  kept  indeed, 

In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need  : 

Not  that  we  give,  but  that  we  share,  — 

For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare ; 

Who  gives  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three,  — 

Himself,  his  hungering  neighbor,  and  me." 

Sir  Launfal  awoke  as  from  a  swound  :  — 
"  The  Grail  in  my  castle  here  is  found ! 
Hang  my  idle  armor  up  on  the  wall, 
Let  it  be  the  spider's  banquet-hall ; 
He  must  be  fenced  with  stronger  mail 


-«  373  8^ 

Who  would  seek  and  find  the  Holy  Grail." 
The  castle  gate  stands  open  now. 

And  the  wanderer  is  welcome  to  the  hall 
As  the  hangbird  is  to  the  elm-tree  bough ; 

No  longer  scowl  the  turrets  tall, 
The  Summer's  long  siege  at  last  is  o'er ; 
When  the  first  poor  outcast  went  in  at  the  door, 
She  entered  with  him  in  disguise. 
And  mastered  the  fortress  by  surprise ; 
There  is  no  spot  she  loves  so  well  on  ground. 
She  lingers  and  smiles  there  the  whole  year  round ; 
The  meanest  serf  on  Sir  Launfal's  land 
Has  hall  and  bower  at  his  command ; 
And  there's  no  poor  man  in  the  North  Countree 
But  is  lord  of  the  earldom  as  much  as  he. 

— James  Russell  Lowell. 


THE  BLAISDELL  SPELLER 

BY 

ETTA   AUSTIN   BLAISDELL 

AND 

MARY   FRANCES   BLAISDELL 


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